The InkMaster
by ArtMun
Summary: A Writer's Soul is that of a mere Mortal's; Quaint, Frail, Easily Broken. It is of a Writer's Nature to Express Pain through Words and Representations of Themselves and People and The World Around Them. If the Writer is Unbalanced, the Character will be manifested from the imbalance. In the End, Characters are just as human as we are. Rated M for future Violence/Gore/Horror
1. Prologue

Cold was the night with the winds howling; sending the colorful fall leaves flying and soaring through the air. Walking along the path was a lone figure, a woman to be exact. Her hazel eyes flickered around with pure interest and fascination. There was also a searching look in them. And that very well was because this woman was searching.  
Not for a something; a some _one_.  
She adjusted her leather jacket and flipped her collar up against the howling and chilling wind. In her hand was a small note-card. Her brunette brow quirked as she took a brief glance at it, and her mouth twitched. With a small and quiet 'humph' the woman pocketed the card away again and continued her strides down the road stretched ahead. She dragged along a wheeled suitcase and cradled firmly in her arm a sketchpad, and a peculiar ink pen hung from a long necklace that draped on her neck.  
As the woman walked, she passed by a green sign. On it, written in bold white words read;

 _ **Madison Delaware**_

 _ **1 Mile Away**_

She didn't so much as glance at the sign. Her gaze was locked strictly forward, and when the moonlight shined dimly upon her the nib of the ink pen glimmered a light green.

"You are a _very_ hard man to find, mister Stine…"

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

A Character is an Extension of  
A Writer's Soul.

A Writer's Soul is that of a mere Mortal's;  
Quaint, Frail, Easily Broken.

It is of a Writer's Nature to  
Express Pain through Words and Representations  
of Themselves and People and The World Around Them.

If the Writer is Unbalanced,  
So is the Character Manifested from those Unbalanced Feelings.

In the End,  
Characters are just as Human and Flawed as We Are…

Despite All that Others may Deny.  
✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

 _ **The**_ _**Ink**_ _ **M**_ _ **aster**_

ArtMun

Illustrations found here;


	2. Black Ink

**Chapter I: Black Ink - Pt. I**

"Every story is comprised of three things; the beginning, the middle…and the _twist_ ,"

R.L. Stine beamed with absolute pride as he stated these words. Well, the closest he could get to beaming, at the very least. His brow was raised, a light smirk on his lips, and he seemed to be attempting an air of 'mysteria' around him.  
However it made him appear more ridiculously eccentric than anything; but nobody had the heart to tell him that.  
Those words, that very sentence, was always how he started his literature class for the new freshmen every school year. The man couldn't help himself. And as an author himself (especially one of horror novels), he found the statement to be more than true. Well, of course he would; he created the statement himself, after all. It just came to him, out of the blue and on the fly. It really was a random thought, really, and he'd be damned if he didn't snag the opportunity to use that line whenever he had the chance.

It had been nearly a whole year since Slappy's revenge (his best selling work in nearly ten years) and the town of Madison was still in a bit of recovering. The biggest project has been replacing and repairing the telephone lines and towers, and they still weren't even done with that yet. The streets were still widely cracked in some areas, but yet, somehow (and much to the students' dismay) they managed to repair the school within a month.  
Ever since that fateful night, however, the nonstop topic about the monster invasion from the Goosebumps books rambled on and on. It was all everyone went on about, _still_. More so the children and teens of Madison than anyone else.  
Along with that, it had also become a collective silent agreement to keep the events of that night between the people of the town, and those who bared witness, to let it be nothing more but a creative novel comeback from the mysterious R.L. Stine. And by 'silent agreement'; it was more along the lines of a grudging agreement. The author threatened to open the manuscript ,that now quite literally held every monster of his creation, back open again so they could raise hell all over again.

At least all but the Invisible Boy. Nobody, not even Stine, knows where he had run off to, in all truths. But everyone was sure to keep an eye out.

Stine wasn't _really_ going to open the manuscript (for obvious reasons) but if anyone found out out about that night…they'd surely catch on to how they came to be in the first place. He made the bluff to keep word from spreading; and to make sure nobody would get their filthy little mitts on that typewriter.  
If in the wrong hands…all hell really _could_ break loose…

The bell ending the period sounded, and the students hurried on out of the classroom and poured into the hall. Stine hadn't even managed to finish his sentence when the students had fled!

"Hey–hold on, just– _read the first chapter by tomorrow_!" He had made a light dash to the door and shouted it out as they left. The author grumbled, sighed and his brow twitched as a tight frown stretched on his lips. He rolled his eyes and started back to his desk. "Teenagers…"

"Hey dad," Hannah peered in through the doorway of the classroom and smiled. She laughed a little when she was met with her father's typical grouchy expression. "Didn't even get the first word out, huh?"  
"It's the secretaries, I swear. They're ending my freshmen period a whole minute early, I know it!"  
"Dad, why in the world would they do that?"  
A grimace stretched on Stine's face, and he turned in his chair to face his daughter directly. "Because they want to see me _suffer_ ," He claimed in a stressed and slightly jesting tone.  
Hannah laughed again and walked into the classroom. She rolled her eyes playfully. "This isn't one of your books, dad…"  
Stine rose an eyebrow at Hannah. "Well how do you know..? Maybe I wrote about an evil secretary once who enjoys ringing class bells _a whole minute early_."  
"You really aren't gonna let that go, are you?"  
"Don't you have a class to go to? Or a free period to spend your time _french kissing_ your boyfriend or something–" He started the sentence in jest but he sharply stopped with a tense look on his face and pointed sharply at Hannah. "–you _better not_ be doing that, by the way."  
"Dad."  
"Hannah."  
Hannah rolled her eyes once again and rested her hands on her hips. "Dad, I'm here to talk to you about homecoming, remember?"  
"…I have no recollection of that. We'll talk about this later, okay sweetie?"  
"You said that already. Last week."  
"….Yeah…"  
"So..?"  
"So what?"  
" _Dad_!"  
Stine sighed loudly and held up his hands in defeat. He leant back against his chair. "Okay, okay! I'll let Zach chaperon you,"  
Hannah grinned widely and clasped her hands together. "Thanks dad–"  
"But you need to be back by eight."  
"Dad."  
"What?"  
"The dance starts at _seven_."  
"…And…?"  
Hannah let out a loud sigh and hung her head while shaking it. "Dad, if you're so worried why don't you volunteer to be an overseer of the dance?"  
Stine instantly cringed, and he shuddered at the thought of being in a slightly compressed room with nearly a hundred people in it. "Ehh, no."  
"You could bring Lorraine with you," Hannah suggested.  
"Still no."  
"Fine. Then let me stay out until ten."  
"Nine."  
"Nine thirty."  
"Deal. Now hurry on to your boyfriend," Stine teased as he turned to a pile of yet-to-be-graded papers. "–tell Zach I said hi. And that you both better not be late to next period again."

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

"…have you discussed the situation with Mr. Stine yet?"  
"No, not yet. I'm heading over to the school now as we speak, though. Literally just a block away. I'll register in as a counselor, as ordered."  
"Good. The papers should have been faxed and emailed in yesterday, so the high school should have it. How was your trip over?"  
"A very, very, _very_ long walk. Tatiana is on her way over to the school with all of the room decor and such. You know how she is. How about you? When are you stepping in?"  
"Only unless things get out of hand. I'm leaving this one to you and Marionette."  
"Understood, ma'am."  
"Good. And Carla..?"  
"Ma'am?"  
"Please…for the InkMasters' reputation sake; _behave_."  
"Oh I _will_ ; as long as Mr. Stein and his ' _children_ ' do, at least."

' _click'_

"...Well your application is exemplary, miss…"  
"Oh no; call me Carla, we're all friends here right?" Carla smiled brightly at principle Garrison and chuckled. "Besides, it's my job no matter what school I'm in to advise not only the students but the staff as well."  
The principle smiled a bit and nodded in approval. He rubbed his chin and looked over several papers laid out on his desk. "You seem to have a good head on your shoulders; and your spirit is just what this school needs. From what I can tell from our discussion as well as your recommendations you're just what we need here in this school. Our last counselor had to step out of his position due to some injuries he sustained," He explained.  
"Oh really? That's awful, what happened to this poor man..?"  
"A very bad storm blew in here about a year ago now. Unfortunately this was during homecoming and our counselor from last year was injured while protecting a few students during the storm."  
"Huh...that's so weird. I didn't know this little town could get such a storm...I don't remember hearing about it on the news or weather either…" Carla eyed principle Garrison's slightly anxious expression and suddenly let out a laugh. "Well, it was a year ago; I might have just forgotten about it. Better to focus on the here and now, seeing as this year's homecoming will be soon; let's hope no storms come in this time around and crash the party, right?"  
Principle Garrison cleared his throat a little and nodded. He nervously chuckled at her remark. "Right, right...well miss- _Carla_ , I don't normally make these decisions this quickly, but I'd prefer it if you could start Monday, if that's all the same to you. We really are a bit short-handed this year…"  
"Oh, it's no trouble." Carla smiled brightly. "Actually, believe it or not I had a bit of an...intuition you could say about you wanting me to get started very soon; my stuff is actually in my van at the parking lot." She paused, clearing her throat a little. "Only...well, as you have seen in my records, I'm sure...I have a bit of a leg problem; well, more of a lacking problem, really. And I have a little bit of trouble carrying things a bit heavy. It makes my prosthetic leg act up, you know? I'd really appreciate it if-"  
"Not a problem," The principle waved a hand down and picked up the phone set on his desk. "I know a few teachers nearby that are in prep right now...let's see, the closest one I think is Mr. Stine…" He mused as he started to dial. "-let me give him a call…"  
"Stine? As in...R.L. Stine..? Like the writer?"  
"Not 'like' the writer, my dear, he is the writer. Let make make this call and have him come down. You two can head out together, then, get acquainted. "

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

"WHAHAHAHAHAHAAA—! Oh man...ohh, you really screwed up, didn't you..?!"  
"It's not funny."  
"Yeah, you're right; it's _hilarious_."  
"I'd watch yourself and what you say, if I were you."  
"Ohh, after all that time you really are still sour, aren't ya..?" Kirma chuckled as she aimed her cue stick at the plain white cue ball, clearly worn after years upon years of usage. She squinted her eye and adjusted her microscope-patch that covered the other, concentrated for a bit, and suddenly looked up at her three-foot-tall companion that sat on the edge of the pool table across from her. A grin sprouted across her lips. "-you know, we've played pool about seven-hundred and fifty times; that's thirty games a year, did you know that?"  
"Fascinating, tell me more, I'm absolutely _enthralled_." The companion deadpanned. His darkened silhouette drearily leant against his own cue stick. Whenever this companion spoke, a small wooden clacking could be heard between syllables; like a puppet's jaw moving. And it was exactly that. Only two wooden puppets were well known to have this clack in their speech, and one of them had gotten out scott-free years ago. That could only mean this companion sitting across this microscope-patched woman was none other than Slappy; a very bitter one at that.

Kirma rolled her eyes at Slappy's deadpan. "You're no fun anymore." She huffed. "You don't ever feel like doing anything besides spy on Stine, plop in some corner in your book somewhere, or just-I don't even know; what do you even _do_ now besides those two things?!"

Now it was Slappy's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm here playing pool with you, aren't I?"

"Oh no; I don't _count_. We've had each other's backs for nearly three decades; getting each other out of thick and thin, more of you saving my ass most of the time, but still! By the way...I never got a thank you for saving your tiny wooden tush yesterday. What the heck was that about, anyway? You picking a fight with the _Horrors_?" Kirma frowned as she walked her way around the pool table to look at Slappy directly. She crossed her arms and a look of questioning crossed her face. "They're from the same series and author as you; that's like picking a fight with your family, besides your actual brother Wally, anyway…"

The dummy rolled his eyes. "I don't _like_ the Horrors- Is there a point to this, or are you just going to keep on with your drunken rambling?" Slappy asked with a raise of his brow.

"I'm not _that_ drunk. I guess I'm just a little...I dunno, surprised. It's not like you to argue amongst your fellow characters like that…" Kirma rose an eyebrow when Slappy didn't answer, and she knocked her knuckles against his wooden dark brown hair to snap him back to reality. "He—llo? Anyone up there?" Ignoring the dummy's annoyed gaze, she peered around to his back and dared to poke a finger at the strings that were in it. "Did your strings snap again?"

The lights suddenly flickered, and in between the darkness, Slappy had crossed to the other side of the room.

"Don't you even _think_ about it!" He snarled.

Kirma only bursted with laughter, her microscope-patch whirring in circles. "I knew that'd get you out of your little trance there!" She laughed. The brunette adjusted her slategrey jacket to snug it closer on her shoulders and approached the dummy with a smirk dancing on her lips. "Anyway, about that fight…"

"It's none of your business."

"Ohhh…" Kirma mused. "-somebody is a very... _snappy Slappy_ …" She nudged Slappy in the chest with an elbow. "Huh? Huuh?"

Instead of receiving anything remotely close to a fake laugh or eyeroll at the least; Slappy only stared at Kirma, blinking.

"...No..?"

"You're getting better...but no."

The lights flickered once again, and Slappy was standing on the pool table again. He eyed where the game was at while lazily leaning against his own cue stick (which was about nearly three times his size), and an almost calculated atmosphere collected around him as he knelt down to aim the cue stick.

Kirma watched Slappy all the while, a little transfixed. A puzzled look crossed her face. "Okay, so uh...how the hell are you able to even use that cue stick? You're...you're like-"

"Don't say it."

"Short. I was going to say short. Like," she made a small height comparison motion with her hand. "-three-foot-two short."

Slappy rose an eyebrow at Kirma. When she offered him another of her ridiculously idiotic grins, his eyes rolled hard enough to hear them clack in his head. "Hasn't stopped me yet," he mused.

" _Yet_ , being the _key word_ here, Slap. Though I guess I can't really say that since you've gotten your ass kicked by your own author. By the sound of your newest addition to the book of 'Slappy's failed attempts of breaking free' I'd say it's about to run short if you keep pushing it. Stine is an _Author_ , you are a _character_ , he is of real _flesh_ and _blood_ , you're made of _ink_! Going up against your own author is like challenging a...a...a _god_!" She ignored Slappy's heated gaze and sauntered over to the bar. Kirma whistled a little and waved her hand up in the air at the bartender; which one could consider to be nothing but a shadow in formalwear. "Hey barkeep; two more rounds of that uh...that last order I had!"

"You ordered two different drinks the last time." The bartender droned. "Which one do you want?"

"Uhhh…" Kirma's gaze shifted to the wall, and she squinted an eye as her patch whirred and shifted again with thought. Her lips stretched as her face scrunched. Suddenly, a grin sprouted on her lips and she slammed a fist down onto the bar table; startling one of the stragglers that had fallen asleep at the bar. " _ **Both**_!" She declared. Slappy facepalmed. An almost wicked expression crossed her face as she eagerly rubbed her hands together while watching the bartender prepare her drinks.

"You're going to regret it." Slappy stated dryly.

Kirma kept her eyes locked on the liquor. "No I'm not."

"Yes you are," the bartender droned.

"Nobody asked you!" Kirma snapped bitterly. She slumped at the bar table. "Just mix the freaking alcohol, man…"

Slappy snickered, and now it was Kirma's turn to cast a dry glance. A stillness casted throughout the bar, and Slappy froze in mid motion of the move he was going to make with the cue stick. He sighed and solely dropped the cue stick after a long moment.  
This, this would not do. What in the world was he even doing now? Wasting away the days doing nothing? Collecting dust on a shelf? Even in this illusion of a world, he couldn't bring himself to budge much this past year, grumbling and huffing bitterly while inwardly plotting his next plans he had in store if he managed to break out of the book again. But that wasn't very likely; his beloved 'papa' probably hid the book where he and the other 'monsters' he created tight under lock and key. Hell, he could have even buried the key somewhere. Meanwhile Wally was _out there_ somewhere, exploring no and having all the fun in the real world, no doubt.

 _Wally_ ; just thinking of his brother's name made Slappy cringe and his jaw clatter in disgusted anger. He was, technically, the first character to manifest from Stine's words into a physical form. But however, when the first draft of 'Night of the Living Dummy' was manuscripted; Wally managed to not only escape from Stine's grasp but managed to stay free. Slappy recalled Stine nearly having a stroke when he saw Wally on the news once as a cause to a 'freak accident' at a birthday party.

Stine...

 _The funhouse? Too obvious, papa, really; you know better than that…_

 _Slappy eyed the small band that crowded around the small table from the one-way mirror; the lanky teen was furiously typing in attempts to keep up with Stine's words of narration. He was pacing, a typical undertaking the author did while thinking. Hannah was organizing the papers as the lanky one finished off another page, and the other one that screamed like a ten-year-old girl was poking around at the decorations that hung off the walls and ceiling._

 _There was something about that picture before the character that set him off. It angered him. No; it more like, simply put;_ _ **pissed him off**_ _. 'Not friends, huh..?' Slappy thought ruefully, and his brows slowly narrowed with envy as Stine stopped his pacing and leant close in between Hannah and the lanky teen to emphasize the eeriness of his narration._

" _...but it offered refuge from the real terrors that lurked outside…"_

" _You_ _**wish**_ _."  
The words passed the dummy's mouth in as an angry growl, and his hands clenched into tight fists. Stine tried to lead the teens out of the funhouse; but Slappy wasn't letting anyone go __**anywhere**_ _that easily.  
_ " _Papa, you left without saying_ _ **goodbye**_ _,"  
He was pissed. Beyond that, even; he was enraged.  
_" _Trying to hide from_ _**me**_ _? That's like hiding from_ _ **yourself**_ _!"  
Stine and Slappy had done everything together; the character watched and comforted the author during his late college years when things had gotten rough, he made sure he was right by the man's side, and he was_ _**glad**_ _to be!  
_ " _I was your_ _**best friend**_ _; and you_ _ **turned your back on me**_ _!"  
How many times had he gone out of his way to make sure those bullies never hurt Stine again?! How many times was he there for him when nobody else couldn't be bothered?! How many times had he told him that he'd always stick by his side no matter what happened, and keep him safe from the cruel people of the outside world?! Slappy could feel his chest boiling with indignation. As soon as Stine's books became famous, as soon as he was given the limelight; what did he do in return?!  
_" _Locked me up;_ _ **imprisoned**_ _me! In the pages of a_ _**book**_ _;"  
After all Slappy had given, after all those years..._ _ **that**_ _was the thank you he gets?!  
_ " _-you stuck me on a shelf! For_ _ **years**_ _and_ _ **years**_ _, the key was_ _ **right there**_ …" _  
Slappy looked Stine dead in the eye; he wanted to take in the terror on Stine's face.  
_ " _...and you_ _ **never**_ _used it."  
But all he was met with was vexated determination._

" _You're not_ _ **real**_ _, Slappy...I created you; I can_ _ **write you out**_ _!"_

Slappy shook his head free of the memory and groaned, almost sickeningly. Stine's words kneaded and churned his stomach, figuratively speaking, as though the man himself elbowed him right in the gut. Again, figuratively speaking; he had no guts. Or organs. Or bones.

As the brunette drained her drinks the lights flickered once more, and Slappy quietly waited for her to finish. Immediately after Kirma slammed her glass down, the dummy's eyebrow quirked.

"You need to go home."

"No I don't..!" Kirma hiccuped. "M' _fine._.!"

"Get up before I drag you out. I'm walking you over."

"...Alright, alright…"

Kirma's speech was just as scattered as her thoughts were, and she continued to drunkenly babble on (admittedly, much to Slappy's amusement) as the two walked down the sidewalk. Her dissipated schemes were cut with a brief intermission of a one-sided argument she had with a pole that she had run into, and again she continued on with her 'master plan' after Slappy dragged the woman (quite literally) down the sidewalk.  
The dummy had lost interest at one point; he knew that once Kirma started monologuing there was nothing that even he could do to shut her up. Typically, he would have just started walking in the opposite direction to leave Kirma alone and carry the conversation up with an unlucky bystander, but at this point he was a bit desperate for the company. Slappy wasn't exactly on good terms with much of his 'friends' at the moment due to yet another failed attempt of freedom; it's almost _baffling_ how long some monsters can really hold a grudge.  
That, and who knows what Kirma would do while intoxicated and nobody was around to keep a watchful eye on her. Once, and only once, he thought he could just leave Kirma alone and sleep it off at the bar; it wasn't like that didn't happen all the time. But quite literally ten minutes after he got back into the cracks and pages of his own book he was called back to come get Krima before she blew the bar sky-high; literally.

"...appy? Hey, Slap; you listening?!"

Once again, Slappy was jerked out of his thoughts. He was walking ahead of Kirma, and his head turned a whole three-sixty towards her direction.  
"Every word," he lied.

"Okay, great, thought I lost ya there. Anyway! I was thinking that you should whip up a spell or somethin' and make I dunno Horrorland sprout arms an' legs; make it do all kinds of crazy shit, it'd be _wicked_!"

"There isn't a spell that can do that."

"...Are you sure?"

"Trust me, Kirma; I'm sure."

"Damn. You gotta admit, it'd be pretty awesome if there was."

"Yeah, sure."

Kirma rose an eyebrow at Slappy dubiously before looking over to her left and grinning as she skidded to a stop. She turned on her heels towards Slappy's direction as she started backwards towards the 'gateway' to her book; it was almost like a pond that hovered in mid-air, glowing faintly with an unfathomable color. "Welp; this is my pit-stop!" Kirma bowed deeply to Slappy with an exaggerated flourish. "I bid you adieu, Slappy! Until we meet again, my fine puppet!"

And with that, she disappeared into the portal.

Slappy eyed it for a moment, his gaze turning about himself with a cautious air before he started down the sidewalk again to his own book. He glanced down at his arm when he noticed an inky ripple spread throughout it. His jaw clacked unsettlingly, and he quickly began to start a mad dash while muttering to himself.

"Was out for too long...gotta get back into that damned book before I fade... That'd be an unpleasant experience…"

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

"Hey-you must be Carla," Stine offered the best smile he could (which was a rather strained one) when the brunette turned around to look at him. Carla smiled back and adjusted the box in her arms to outstretch her hand to the author.

"That's me. And..you're Mr. R.L. Stine, I assume..?"

"You've assumed correctly," He chuckled while taking her hand.

"I thought so; it truly is an honor to meet you in person like this." The woman beamed at Stine and she motioned to the open trunk. "Thank you so much for this, by the way. Both my hubby and non-existant leg thank you."

Stine simply waved a hand down, and his domineer quickly began to relax. "Don't worry about it; let me get that for you," He offered while taking the over sized box from her arms. The author was starting to get the hang of this whole 'social interaction' thing. Not quite ready to take on big parties quite yet; but it's progress.

"Thanks, again. Let's trudge along then, shall we?" Carla noted as she took a few other boxes from the trunk.

The two made their way back over to the school doors again and as Stine pushed the door open with his back, he looked over at Carla. "You said your 'hubby' so, I'm just taking a wild card here in guessing that you're married..?"

"Yep; not too long ago, though.; it was on June 26th. But we've been happily so ever since. How about you, Mr. Stine?" Carla offered a playful grin to the man and winked. "Are you married?"

The question caught Stine off guard; he had no idea why. His entire face seemed to start to heat up as he frantically searched for his words, which of all times decided to leave his head now. "Uhh-no, no. Not married, no. It's just been me and my daughter, Hannah. I have a girlfriend, though, she's-she's really great."

"Does she have a name?"

"Loraine."

"Very lovely. Did I hear you correctly when you said you have a daughter? Hannah, you said?"

"Yeah,"

"I'm assuming she goes to this school then. What grade?"

"Eleventh. She actually just enrolled this year in school, I home schooled her for a pretty long time."

The two spent most of their time moving the boxes just like this; talking (albeit a bit awkwardly) and figuring out which boxes to bring in next. Carla's office wasn't too far off, which was a relief, and the task was getting done very quickly. The period was nearly over as they walked the final boxes to the room. Stine showed a different route to take that could get them to the office just a bit quicker so he can get back to his classroom. And during this route, they had passed the Smith Corona typewriter, sitting inside the case peacefully.

Stine hadn't noticed that Carla had stopped walking at first, and when he looked around after realizing she wasn't walking beside him anymore, he found Carla staring straight at the typewriter. It wasn't the mere fact that she _was_ staring at the typewriter itself that made his blood run cold. The thing that gave the author a very unsettled feeling was _how_ she was staring at the typewriter…

"...You donated your typewriter to the school...that's a generous thing to do…"

Stine stared, an uneasy shiver running down his spine. "Not...not really, it's an old typewriter, I...I haven't used it in years…"

"Really?" Carla mused. "It looks to be...what's the word..? _Recently worn_..?" She chuckled, shrugging a little as she turned her head to Stine for a brief moment before returning her gaze back over to the typewriter. "Oh, well; I'm no good with words, really, I'm no _writer_ like you, of course. It's a beautiful Smith Corona. I've never seen one that was white, however..." She looked back at Stine once again as he walked next to her. They both stared at the typewriter, and their reflections off the glass stared back. "Is it a limited edition?"

Stine's expression reflected a sense of misgivings, but he was quick to replace it with a smile. This time it was almost eerily relaxed. "You could say that…"

"Huh. I bet that typewriter's ink is _very_ special…"

The two adults exchanged looks of enigmatic, and a dusty and unearthly silence collected in the atmosphere. That's when the bell dismissing the period rang. The shrieking bell snapped them both out of their thoughts and they exchanged looks one more time.

Carla carefully eased the box in Stine's arms on top of her own box. "Well, you'd better hurry on to your classroom. Don't want to leave your students unattended," She smiled, her voice overly coated in palatablity.

Stine's stiff smile returned. He simply nodded and quickly started back to his classroom, his face dripping apprehension.

"See you sometime later, Mr. Stine!"

Carla's voice made the author unintentionally flinch, and he wasn't able to hide his perturbed expression this time when he promptly looked back at her. She offered another smile and waved a little before stepping inside her office, using the hook of her prosthetic leg to shut the door behind herself.

Stine's teeth clenched, and he stormed down along the hallway as students started to pour out of the classrooms. There was no doubt in his mind. He thought it was a bit strange; that woman was a little too friendly from the start, but it all made sense now. The new counselor had her eyes set on the typewriter. Somehow, someway, she knows _**exactly**_ what it could do.

And there was no way in hell Stine was letting her so much as _breathe_ on it.

The remains of the school day seemed to drag on for centuries for Stine, even though there were only two periods left. He couldn't get his mind off of the number of possibilities Carla would want with his typewriter. And there were numerous options to go for with something like that. As soon as the final bell had rung he ushered every last student out of his class as quick as he could, and bolted back over to the display case.

Stine sighed with relief when he saw the typewriter was still there, he thought Carla somehow would weasel a way to take it. He took out the key to the display case the principal had given him (just in case) and snagged the typewriter from it. The author slid the case shut and locked it again before hurrying on to the exit to meet with Hannah, Zach and Champ. It was a good thing he offered to ride the three teens home today; they had a lot to talk about.

The author had left in such a rush he didn't even notice Carla was staring at him from her office door's window. A small smirk sported her lips, and she chuckled with a slow nod.

"Very good, Mr. Stine, very good...keep that typewriter close to you, don't lock it up and away from yourself...there's a _storm_ coming, and it's brewing _fast_."

"...What do you mean our new counselor is _evil_?" Zach's face scrunched with confusion and he stared at the author with doubt. He knew the guy wasn't much of a people's person.

Champ beamed as he slipped on the seat belt and looked over at Stine with a shrug. "I saw her in the halls, she was talking with a few students. She seems nice."

"Well, she's not." Stine stated. He sighed and shook his head a little, glancing down at the typewriter on the car's floor. "I've had a chat with her personally. She's...off, I don't know-but I do know that she wants my typewriter. She…she knows something about it, I'm sure! I don't know why, I don't know how, and I don't care," He pointed a finger at Hannah who sat in the passenger's seat, and motioned back to Zach and Champ. "-you three just need to keep an eye on her, but _stay away_ from her if you can."

"What makes you think she's after the typewriter?" Hannah questioned as her father began to back out of the parking spot. "Did she say something that she shouldn't have known about, or…?"

"Carla said something about...well not necessarily the typewriter itself, but its _ink_ ," Stine explained. "...she said how it had to be _special_ , or something along those lines, and she was just _eyeing_ the typewriter very... _ **bizarrely**_ …" His grip tightened on the wheel a little as he started to drive out of the parking lot, and his eyes narrowed with thought as he turned out to the road. "It was strange, she almost…" The author was almost afraid to make the analogy. "...that woman, she seemed to act a _lot_ like _Slappy_ , I think _**that's**_ why I don't trust her."

The teens all exchanged looks, and Champ frowned a little out of confusion. He looked back at Stine in question. "So...what do we do? Should we tell the principal about it, or….what?"

"I'll give him a call later, _maybe_ ," Stine thought for a moment before shaking his head and sighed. "I don't know—I don't want to get your school involved in _another_ incident considering that typewriter. I think I'm going to do a little research about this Carla woman...if she was actually looking for that typewriter she must have traveled to more places than just Madison."

Champ was dropped off at home, and he waved goodbye to the three before striding up his walkway. The remaining teens and author waved back and the car drove off. A heavy silence had fallen by then, and it remained throughout the drive back to their homes. Luckily, Lorraine, who was waiting for them, broke the silence with her happy shouts.

"Look who's returned from the first day of a fresh new school year; it's my darling nephew, the fabulous Hannah and my precious cuddlebear!" The woman grinned as she trotted down the steps of Stine's porch and waited for him to park.

"Hi miss Lorraine," Hannah smiled. She was nearly toppled over by Lorraine's sudden (and very tight) hug, but started laughing nevertheless.

"Ohhhh, I was so _excited_ for you Hannah, you have no idea!" Lorraine squealed. "Your _first_ full school year—this is bedazzle-night worthy," She quickly added.

"Maybe not tonight, honeybear," Stine sighed, pushing the car door shut.

"Uh-oh. Did something happen?" Lorraine gasped, looking between the three before looking at Stine again. "I knew it; I should've packed you the peanut butter and jelly instead," the statement earned a small laugh from the author, and he waltzed over to her. He wrapped an arm around Lorraine.

"No, it's not that," Stine chuckled while pecking her cheek. "—there's just a bit of a...situation concerning my typewriter…"

"He thinks our new school counselor may be after it." Zach pitched in. He made a face and scrunched it out of confusion. "I still don't get it," he shook his head. "—how would she even _know_ about the books _at all_? I mean...to even speculate something close to it...you'd think somebody would've thrown them in the loony-bin by now."

"Not unless she was living in one of the previous towns Hannah and I stayed at," Stine explained. "If she did, then that'd explains the suspicion…"

"But if she had seen when one of the books were opened before, why go through the trouble of _following_ us to _here_?" Hannah questioned. "And why in the world would she wait this long to show up?"

"Meaningful entrance? Waiting for an opportunity of some sort?" Stine pondered. He shrugged and shook his head. "I really can't say. But I don't think we need to worry _too much_ ; the typewriter's staying with me, and I've hidden the key to the book." The author smiled confidently and patted the typewriter's case. "She won't get her hands on either of those things anytime soon."

"Hello, neighbor!"

The four jumped, each yelling from surprise. Stine wildly looked around himself for a moment before turning his gaze towards the house across the street. And who would've guessed; Carla was waving from the attic window, a bright smile on her face. The author's jaw dropped loosely. "Oh…"

Hannah's eyes widened. "My…"

" _God_ …!" Zach stared at Carla from across the street. "She _moved in_ across-hey, didn't _Mr. Black_ live there?!"

Lorraine looked over at Stine, her eyes widened a bit. "Wait, is that the counselor?" She asked.

He nodded. "She's _relentless_ …" The author hissed under his breath. He let a plaster smile take place of his grimace, and waved as he headed towards the front of his lawn. "Mrs. Blake, hello! I wasn't aware you were moving in to Mr. Black's house!"

"Yeah, we traded houses! I was going to move in with my hubby into a single-floored house, but over the summer while moving in I ran into Mr. Black while running to the store. We got talking about our houses, and he said all these steps in his home weren't doing his legs any good and was selling; so I suggested we made a trade! And...well, here we are! What a coincidence that you'd live right across from me!" Carla leant forward out the window a bit more, and her smile widened while observing the teens. "Oh! Is that your daughter?" She beamed.

Hannah stepped forward a little and waved up at Carla. "Hi there," She called.

"Good evening, young lady!" Carla laughed a bit and waved a hand down. "You know, this is quite silly of us to be shouting at one another from across the street! I'll pop by later after I finish my work up here in the attic, just to say hello! Take care now!" And with that, she disappeared back into the house. The window quickly slammed shut, and the blinds dropped almost instantaneously.

Zach eyed the window for a while before nodding. "O...kay, I can see why you're a little suspicious," he mused. "...she's a bit...off."

Hannah walked next to her father slowly, who was eyeing the window with a frown. "I don't know…" she said thoughtfully. "-she seems completely harmless. But yeah, if she went out of her way to live across the street from us, something's up. What're you gonna do?"

Stine was silent for a while, and he didn't seem to so much as breathe. Eventually, the author sighed heavily and patted Hannah's back, guiding her towards the direction of the house. "I'll...figure something out." He looked over at Zach. "You should go home; but call me if you see anything out of the ordinary. Your mom has probably talked to her, so if she says anything important, let me know."

Zach nodded. "Can do. I'll see if I can find anything out." He smiled a bit as he walked up towards Hannah and the two hugged. "Text you later," he said while kissing her forehead.

Hannah grinned. "Yeah; just two months away from sharing a dance-"

"Okay, that's enough!" Stine interjected. He had moved the young couple apart as he spoke and his eyes bugged while a tight frown stretched widely on his face; which only made them burst with laughter.

"Alright, old man, I'm going…" Zach chuckled as he strode over to his walkway.

Stine waited until Hannah and Lorraine headed over to the porch before peering over the fence at him. He pointed two fingers at his eyes then to Zach. "I'm watching you,"

Zach mimicked Stine's actions and mocked the man's expression. "Well, I'm watching _you_ ,"

"Well I'm watching you, watching me, watching you."

"Well I'm watching you, watching me, watching you, watching me."

Stine huffed, eye and brow twitching."Well I'm watching you, watching me, watching you, watching-"

" _Oh my god_ , are you guys keeping this up all night?!" Hannah suddenly called out, her head peering through the living room window. She was grinning and stifling back her giggles.

"Don't you sass me, young lady!" Stine playfully scolded.

Zach laughed and shook his head as he opened the door to his home. He walked inside and closed it shut behind himself, the door closing with a small ' _click'._

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

The wind harsley howled that night, and the fall leaves swirled about on the forest ground. A small foot sported with a tattered black converse kicked a small pile of leaves out of the way and walked on down the dirt path. It was a naturally sorted path, a small dirt rutt formed after years and years of people walking along in a similar manner. But this was no person walking down this path tonight. Better yet, it was in some format of a person, just not a _human_.

Some wouldn't be any wiser; with his cloak and the unruly red hair that poked out from the hood's opening, and mistake who walked for a small child. But he was no child. This being who walked was, technically, older than most of the trees that resided in this forest.

Technically being the key word here.

Wally; that was his name, and he was a ventriloquist's dummy; just like his brother Slappy.

His icy blue eyes clacked this way and that, brows narrowing. The dummy adjusted his cloak over his shoulders and adjusted the cuffs of his green and red plaid shirt. He wandered down the path, carrying a leather notebook that was better suited his size. It was open, ancient scriptures written inside with an illustration or two to go along with it. Wally stared into the book and started to whisper aloud in strange tongues, but he stopped short when the crunching of leaves under footsteps began to sound from a distance. He shut the notebook, turned his gaze towards where the noise was coming from, and hid in one of the bushes. Waiting, Wally kept his gaze locked on the path and silently opened the journal again. He flipped through a page or two, and waited for the steps to come close. They seemed to be close enough to be right in front of the dummy, and the leaves on the ground shifted as though somebody was stepping through them. The footsteps started to grow distant, and it was then Wally uttered a single-syllabled in the strange language. He blinked, and one of his eyes glimmered green. Wally slowly pushed the bush's branches aside as he peered out from them and his eyelids lowered while he chuckled.

"I can _see_ you…" He muttered in a quiet sing-song.

The boy, that was once invisible, was now at the very least partially visible to the dummy, and he silently started to trail after the young character. Wally followed the Invisible Boy for nearly an hour, keeping to the shadows, and slinked behind tree to tree. He hadn't noticed it at first, but the longer they walked he couldn't help but wonder…

was...was the kid limping?

Wally frowned, in a sense, and turned his gaze towards the ground as the invisible child's limp began to worsen. His eyes clacked wide when, right there, he saw a small trail of drippings slowly beginning to form. It started out small, but seemed to worsen as the Invisible Boy walked on further. The dummy knelt down to take a closer look, to be absolutely sure he was looking at what he _thought_ he was looking at. And he was; small, trailing blips of monster-blood and black ink. Wally regretted confirming his observation, however, upon looking up. The other character had given him the slip, and even with the spell he had casted on his eye; he was nowhere to be seen.

"Dammit…" Wally cursed as he stood. He tore off his cloak and tossed it aside with frustration, and even kicked at the cloth a few times before turning his back to the luminous green trail mixed with black. His gaze turned upwards when thunder rumbled above him. Lighting suddenly cracked, lighting the forest, and just as instantaneous as the flash was, Wally had gone.

"...did you find him?"

"Oh yeah, sure; can't you tell he's standing right next to me?" Wally dryly retorted.

Carla rolled her eyes at him. "So that's a no," she said, stepping aside to let the dummy walk inside. It was then she realized something was missing from him. "Where _the hell_ is your _**cloak**_?"

"I tossed it."

"Wally, you _know_ you can't do that; what if somebody _**saw you**_?!" Carla slammed the door shut and turned towards Wally. He crossed his arms defiantly, and she rested her hands on her hips.

"It's...what? Two in the morning? Nobody in this town would be dumb enough to wander around in the woods." The dummy snorted. "At least not after all the trouble my little brother's caused,"

"That doesn't mean it won't _endanger_ this assignment!" Carla peered through the windows for a moment to double-check if anybody was outside on their porch, and made sure to shut every blind. "Do you even _**realize**_ how serious this is? A character is out _roaming_ the town, an _**invisible**_ one, might I add, and _several_ other characters from different novels _**disappeared**_ before that! Ten characters within _**two months**_? That isn't-"

"-A normal circumstance for Inkling Characters, something is ' _terribly wrong'_ , we need to get to the bottom of it and report it back to the InkMaster Breu and blah, _blah_ , _**blah**_." Wally deadpanned. "You've given me the speech several times already, pixie-cut; I've practically memorized it."

"Well maybe I wouldn't give this speech so many times if you would just behave." Carla snapped. She stood directly in front of Wally and knelt down so they were eye to eye. "Let me remind you, since you seem to have forgotten again; _you_ are under _**parole**_ , _you_ are licenced right now as a _**criminal**_ in our books, _you_ were the one who _ran away_ from your _**author**_ and _then_ decided to _**terrorize**_ a child's birthday party. As far as I can see; you are in _no circumstance_ to _argue_ with _me_ about this; unless you want to stick around for another _**ten years**_ then by _all means_ don't hold back." The brunette stood, crossed her arms, and waited.

Wally only glared up at her, silent. He growled between his teeth, turned away from the woman and started to stomp his way towards the steps. His gaze stayed locked on Carla's, his head staying put in its position as his body turned to the face the steps. They stared at one another, the dummy's head nearly a fully three-sixty towards Carla's direction, and she stared back, just as unblinking as he was. Wally snarled under his breath and turned his head forward. He treaded up the steps, mumbling and cursing. The dummy stormed up the wooden steps to the attic and pulled the fold-in steps by its string and slammed the trapdoor shut. He sighed loudly and gave his journal a hard toss, teeth clenched.

"Damn that woman! I hate her so damn much! So damn _pompous_ and _snooty_ all the _**damn time**_!" Wally shouted. "She's just as bad as my _**pain-in-the-ass-brother**_ ; I _swear_ to—"

"You oughta relax, Wall," A voice suddenly piped up. It was deep, heavy sounding almost, and it was endowed with a Boston accent. "—you don't want _Carla_ hearing you say all that." Another dummy wearing a black fedora with a black and grey striped suit eyed Wally from his spot at the window.

" _Shut up_ , Rocky." Wally hissed, voice dripping like venom. He strode over towards where his journal had landed when he tossed it and snatched it up from the ground. "I don't need one of your damn lectures right now…" the dummy brushed the dust off the journal and crawled up onto the small sofa across from the window and flopped onto his back with a loud sigh.

"Rough night?"

"Yeah."

"Well did you at least find that invisible kid?"

"For a hot second, yeah," Wally groaned. He draped his arm over his eyes. "-he was trailing monster-blood and ink, which isn't a good sign. Not sure how he managed to _actually_ get hurt, but he obviously did."

Rocky flipped his fedora in his hands, humming thoughtfully. He turned his gaze out the window again. "And let me guess…" the dummy added impassively. "...you didn't tell Carla about it before you stormed up here?"

Wally snorted and rolled onto his side, his back to Rocky. "Let her figure it out on her own…"

"That isn't very fair, Wally," another voice quipped. The red headed dummy groaned loudly and covered his ears. This voice was deep, like Rocky's, but not quite as low. It was also equipped with a southern accent. The young mind might mistake the voice for Goofy's.

There was yet another dummy in the attic, and he waddled out from under the desk that rested in the corner of the room. He was a little smaller than the other two, (though Rocky was quite beefy for a dummy) and he scratched at his frizzed brown hair and pulled at his orange turtleneck shirt. "-you know, you can be just as mean as Slappy sometimes." He went on. The tone of his voice was more of an upset whine in contrast to the wide and ridiculous smile plastered on his face.

"Wow, if only I _actually cared_ ," Wally sneered. He didn't bother looking back at him. Instead, he opened up his journal and flipped to the closest blank page, took out a pen, and started writing.

But he was interrupted by the other dummy pouncing up onto the couch, the force of his landing causing Wally to bounce a little on the couch. And also force his pen to go astray on the page. Wally growled and shot upward, piercing the other with daggers for eyes.

"...Sorry."

"Dennis...I am only reminding you this _one last time_ …" Wally grabbed Dennis by his shirt and shook him wildly. "Stop. Jumping. On. The. _Damn._ _ **Couches**_!"

' _Pop!'_ Dennis' head was now rolling on the floor. It had fallen off from the force of Wally's shaking. The dummy's arms started to wildly flail, and his deep laugh started to fill the loft.

"Wally, come on, leave the kid alone." Rocky sighed. "Don't take your anger out on him; it's not our fault you've got a bad temper."

"I don't have a _**temper**_ ," Wally growled. He let Dennis' body drop to the floor and sat back down, arms crossed. "-I just wanna get the hell out of here. I'm tired of being Carla's 'personal assistant'..."

"But if you _leave_ you won't get to see _**Marionette**_ anymore!" Dennis quipped, a teasing sing-song in his voice. He grabbed his head and twisted it back on, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I think she'd _really_ miss you, buddy..!"

"Don't call me 'buddy', nitwit." Wally rolled his eyes. He took his journal, held it up in front of his face to block his view of Rocky and Dennis, and sunk into the couch's cushion. "And so what if I don't get to see her anymore? Who...who cares?"

" _ **You**_ do!"

"Shut _the hell_ up, Dennis."

A small tapping suddenly quipped. It was gentle, light, and seemed to be coming from behind the trap door. Rocky hopped down from the platform to the window and treked over to it, pushing down at the fold-in stairs with a heavy push to open it. The stairs unfolded and came down with a loud groan, and glassy footsteps trotted upward until a head popped through the trapdoor. She occupied long blonde hair (which was tied into a bun at the moment), and her glassy turquoise eyes darted this way and that before planting on Rocky. She was porcelain, and her vitreous lips curved into a friendly smile. "Hi Rocky,"

Rocky playfully flourished. "Evening Mari," He greeted as Marionette crawled up the remaining steps. "-or good morning I s'pose is a better way to put it. What're you doin' up, anyway?"

Marionette shrugged, smoothing down her nightgown. "Well, I heard Wally and Carla arguing again, and I wanted to wait for him to cool off before checking up on you guys,"

"Hi Mari!" Dennis waved wildly at Marionette, but suddenly, once again his head popped off.

The pale porcelain laughed a little, waving back slightly at his head as it rolled towards her. "Hi Dennis...still can't keep your head?" She giggled as she walked Dennis' head back to his body and replaced it on for him.

Dennis chortled and shook his head. "Nope! Ya know; we were just talkin' about ya, Mari!" He didn't noticed Wally's heated scowl. "Wally was sayin' how he couldn't wait till his parole was done, and I said; 'but wouldn't you miss Marionette? 'Cause she'd sure miss you!' and then he pretended not to care, and then told me to shut up." The dummy was quick to dodge a pillow aimed for him with malice.

Marionette tittered and looked over at Wally, who eyed her for the briefest moment before burying his head into the journal once again. She trotted over to the couch, climbed up, and walked in front of Wally. The porcelain gently pushed his journal down out of his view. "Hi Wally,"

Wally stared, and slowly lifted up the journal again. "Hi."

"Whatcha reading?"

"Pride and prejudice," he sneered. "-what do you _think_ I'm reading?"

Marionette pushed the journal back down again. "This isn't a healthy thing to invest and obsess over, you know," she scolded.

"I'm not obsessed."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, so stop bugging me about it."

"You take that thing everywhere you go, practically sleep with it, you always write stuff down in it, and you get mad whenever someone even touches it!"

"I didn't get mad at you."

"Yeah, well...you usually go off on everyone else. Even Carla,"

"That's different," Wally scowled. "-I _hate_ Carla, and she hates me; that's all there is to it."

Marionette pouted at him and leant closer with a playful whimper. "Take a break? At least till dawn?" She batted her eyes at him. "Pretty pleease..?"

Wally grumbled dryly and sunk deeper into the couch, attempting to avoid Marionette's gaze with his journal. His blue eyes clacked this way and that.

"...Mari and Wally sittin' in a tree; k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"

The dummy sorcerer jumped to his feet and fiercely pointed at Dennis. "Shut the hell up before I _**kill**_ you!" He screeched.

Marionette quickly walked in front of Wally's view. She took the hand he was pointing with in hers and beamed at him. "Please?" She smiled.

"No." Wally deadpanned.

"Pretty please?"

"Maybe."

"Pretty please with a cherry and world domination on top?"

"You just _had_ to use that bit..." Wally rolled his eyes a little and snagged his hand from Marionette's. He shut his journal and set it down on the couch. The dummy crossed his arms and looked over at the porcelain. "Happy?"

"Yes!" Marionette squealed. She was quick to pounce, attacking with a bear-hug and forcing them both to crash at the end of the couch.

Rocky chuckled and shook his head at the sight. He rested his hands on his hips and nudged Dennis with his elbow. "Hey Dennis; let's split while we can and leave the lovebirds alone,"

"We are _**not**_ lovebirds!" Wally growled as he attempted to push Marionette away. "If you're gonna leave, good; I'll finally get some peace and quiet around here!"

"I refuse to go anywhere!" Marionette declared. "Not until dawn so I know you're keeping your promise!"

" _ **Uuughh**_ ; get off of me, already!"

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

Carla sighed heavily and flopped down on the couch. She picked up the copy of 'My Best Friend is Invisible!' that had been lying on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, and read over the last line, the twist in the book's works once more.

"–human beings are an endangered species, after all!"

"We know the boy is human, despite being invisible…and he's on the run, obviously trying to evade being placed back in between the pages of a book...but why is he hiding..? Typically, Mr. R.L. Stine's monsters would attack head on or cause a little mayhem, and the Invisible Boy did just that at the high school a few days after the monsters were recaptured..." Carla's voice trailed, and she stared at the book's cover silently for the longest time.

"...but then you decide to disappear in literal terms all of a sudden and don't leave a trace for nearly a year…why? Why would you do that..?" She frowned thoughtfully and set the book aside on the couch. Her gaze turned towards the ceiling and she began to mindlessly flip her inkpen between her fingers. "What are you so afraid of..?" Her eyes suddenly widened upon realization, and the woman shot up to her feet.

"Unless that means...the recent disappearances...does that mean…? Have we found out the next victim was..? Hiding right under our noses..?"

Carla turned her gaze towards the window and strode over to it. She pushed the curtains open and eyed Stine's house from across the street warily. "The situation's getting far too dangerous to play neighbor for much longer; even if it's only been a day."

The woman strode up the steps and headed down the hallway towards the attic's entrance, and as she did one of the doors slowly creaked open.

"Honey..?"

Carla looked back towards the voice that had spoken to her, and smiled tiredly. "Oh...Tatiana, what're you doing up..?"

"I should be the one asking you that, honestly…" a woman with short light brown hair slowly stepped out of the bedroom and adjusted the large rimmed glasses over her brown eyes. "You walked all the way from headquarters to here almost nonstop; you need to get some sleep. Or at least learn how to drive."

"What can I say? I'm old fashioned," Carla chuckled. Her expression hardened and she shook her head. "And I can't sleep; not yet. There's something more to this case and I need to get Wally, Rocky and Dennis so we can talk to Stine–"

"Wally's sleeping." Tatiana stated firmly. "And Marionette is keeping him company, I sent her up so she could pry him away from that journal of his. His habit is becoming more of an obsession, and it's really worrying her…"

Carla rolled her eyes a little and crossed her arms. She eyed the trapdoor to the attic. "She doesn't need to worry over a horror antagonist. They all have no reasoning or boundaries–"

"You're starting to sound like Inspector Hope, Carla."

"And what if I am?"

Tatiana sighed, shook her head, and walked next to Carla. She wrapped her arms around the woman and rested her cheek on her shoulder. "You normally don't talk like Inspector Hope unless you're exhausted and overworked; you need to sleep."

Carla sighed and kissed Tatiana's carmel cheek. "But the Mr. R.L. Stine–"

"Can survive a few hours I'm sure. What good would you be as an InkMaster if you're exhausted and agitated?"

"...Fine…"

Tatiana grinned at Carla, and she offered a weary lopsided smile in return. The woman suddenly lifted the other up in her arms, making Tatiana burst out with laughter while Carla headed towards the bedroom. "Carla!" She laughed while clinging her to her partner. "What in the world are you doing?!"

"Getting ready to bundle up with my hubby," Carla chuckled, closing the door behind herself with her hooked prosthetic leg.

Stine yawned loudly as he tiredly lifted his head from his desk. His glasses were askew, and several creasings in his skin were formed from the papers his head was resting on.

Grading; his worst nightmare yet.

The author sighed tiredly and fixed his glasses while turning his gaze to the clock that hung on the wall in his study. 2:03AM, good god, he fell asleep at his desk again. That was the fifth time this week, and the school year only just started the day before. Stine yawned again and sat up in his chair, stretching.

clunk

Stine jumped, and his head whipped towards his bottom desk drawer. He eyed it silently for a good two minutes, his brows tightly knit.

clunk clunk clunk

The drawer rattled a bit, and Stine drew in a deep breath. His brow slowly raised at the drawer. It rattled a few more times, and he let out a small sigh while running a hand through his hair. "You guys have no sense of what time it is, do you?" He dryly questioned as he reached over for a small key that rested on the corner of his desk and unlocked the drawer. The author's brow rose higher in his forehead as he stared at the manuscript inside. The small leather book shook and trembled, occasionally knocking against the sides of the drawer.

Stine stole another glance at the clock. "Pretty lively for two AM, I'll give you that…" he frowned a bit, and picked up the book in his hand. He turned his other book in his hand for a moment, and his brows knit together with the look of uncertainty. "What in the world am I going to do with you all..?" He wondered. A meaningful question; and a very tricky one to find an answer for. As the author of these creatures, these monsters, these demons, the ghouls; he certainly couldn't throw them away, nor dump them in a river, and he didn't want to think about throwing them away into the fireplace. So it seemed, at the moment, this author was stuck once again in this turmoiling question; and there was nothing Stine could really do about the situation until he found a way to control these beasts. Or at least their tempers.

And that of course was only wishful thinking. (Can't an author dream, once in awhile?) He didn't blame them however, in fact the only one to blame truly was himself. Stine had created those monsters, all those years ago, in order to release the pain he had felt onto those who had inflicted it upon him. In a way, they all were like children.

Terrifying, monstrous, hellian children.

But...perhaps...again, this merely was wishful thinking but...what if he could control them..? What if, by an off chance, this old author really could fix his mistakes and, possibly, fix the friendship he had with his creations..?

Nah; what was he thinking?

In the end, they were just monsters...

'Riiiiiiiiiiiing!'

The author's head shot up from his desk, and he let out a small startled. Stine's gaze was met with the students of his ninth period class. He tiredly adjusted his glasses, his consciousness slowly settling in. Suddenly, it hit Stine what tune it actually was.

"Why didn't anyone wake me up!?"

Champ awkwardly rubbed the back of his head and shrugged. The students around him and Zach murmured and stifled back giggles and laughs. "You...you looked tired; you fell asleep in mid-sentence." He said. "You seemed like you needed it,"

"God almighty…" Stine grumbled. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose slowly, closing his eyes. The author leant heavily against his desk and shooed the students away as they all began to stand from their desks. "Okay, just...just go, I'll...we'll pick everything up tomorrow. Just read the next lesson in your books for tonight, take notes...all that jazz,"

As the students all poured out of the class, Champ and Zach exchanged looks. The boys made their way over to Stine's desk and watched the author unnervingly pack his things into his case.

"Are...you okay..?" Zach prudently asked.

"Yes...no...I don't know," Stine groaned. He shook his head a little and stuffed a few manilla folders into his bag. "-this whole thing with Carla kept me up all night, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Not only that; but Slappy and the others were a bit restless."

Champ shot Stine a quizzical look. "Well...why don't you just..get rid of it? I mean, you can just run the pages through a shredder or some-"

"No." Stine snapped. His voice had sharpened and lowered in a darkened tone when he spoke the single word; and it was threatening enough to make Champ's lips tightly press together and a look of regret cross his face. The author pointed at him and eyed the boy. "Don't...you ever make a suggestion like that again. The only one who can call out the shots like that, is me...got it?"

Champ briskly nodded. "I-I'm sorry." He managed to murmur out.

Stine sighed heavily and shook his head. He rubbed his temples a little and looked back up at Champ with an apologetic expression. "No, no-I'm sorry, I just-I didn't mean to snap I hadn't gotten much sleep last night…"

"Mr. Stine."

Zach, Champ and Stine all looked towards the entrance of the classroom. There Carla stood, arms crossed and brow slightly raised at the author. "I'd like to talk to you for a moment. Alone, if possible."

"I'm sure whatever you have to say you can say in front of us, right?" Zach questioned, casting Carla a small look of suspicion.

Stine held up a hand to the two boys and shook his head a little. He made a small motion with his head. "No, it's okay. Go on ahead and meet Hannah outside in the schoolyard, I'll drive you all home when we're done talking."

Champ and Zach looked between Carla and Stine for a moment. Their gazes casted and exchanged between one another, and eventually they made their way out, leaving the two adults alone.

Stine didn't look up at Carla as she walked towards him, and he began to organize his papers. "You know...don't you..?"

"I do."

"You want my typewriter,"

"No."

Stine's head shot up, and he stared at Carla with widened eyes. "...No..?" He slowly questioned.

Carla shook her head, and smiled. "No. Actually, if I must be honest...I made myself appear suspicious so you would take your typewriter home with you. As that is where it belongs."

Stine stared at Carla for a long time, and his brows knit together thoughtfully. He adjusted his glasses and slowly rose from his chair. "Who...who are you, exactly..?"

The woman sighed and closed her eyes. She crossed her arms slowly, and stared out the window as a light rainfall began to tap against it. "I suppose now is as good of a time as any..." Carla's gaze returned to Stine, and a solemn expression dawned upon her face. "I apart of an organization that polices and protects characters like the ones that have manifested from your pages, Mr. R.L. Stine. We call ourselves the InkMasters, and we do what we must to keep the Inklings, or characters, safe, as well as their authors. Typically, this calls for us to work amongst other characters. I can tell you right now that I have your characters in my team, actually. You do remember Wally, Dennis and Rocky, correct?"

Stine's eyes widened once again and his jaw dropped. "Wally…" he whispered. "I...I thought he was long gone-h-he escaped from my first draft of-"

"I know."

"And...and Rocky and Dennis.. How did you find them?" The author quickly asked. "Slappy, he-I thought- I saw him burn their books."

"Incorrect." Another smile sprouted on Carla's lips. "We InkMasters prefer to work in secret, so that way we can take a rogue character by surprise if we need to. In my internship, Inspector Hope, along with myself, were actually assigned to assist you in handling I believe the third time Slappy had escaped from his book. When we had discovered that Slappy had planned on burning their books, we took them out of their pages in secret and relocked them to make it appear as though they had never left. I was going to have them relocated to an Inkling-populated area; but however the both of them had gotten rather excited about the idea of working with me in cases, so I persuaded Inspector Hope, who is now our main chief, to make them my partners in my own little team."

"And Wally?"

Carla sighed and shook her head slowly. "He is an entirely different story… More or less, consider him to be under parole and performing 'community service' as payment." She quickly looked up at Stine again and held up a hand. "But discussing your characters' conditions is not why I am here…"

Stine frowned. He slowly closed up his case and eyed Carla, a bit nervously. He wasn't too sure if he liked the look on her face at the moment… "Then...why are you here..?" The author asked.

"To warn you."

"A...About what?"

"About your characters," Carla's gaze narrowed somberly. "...you have to let them out of your book."

Stine instantly backtracked, and his head shook wildly while his hands made quick gestures, "Wait, wait, wait; you want me to do what?!" He shouted. "What are you insane?! Do you have any idea of what would happen if I did-"

"-They will all suffer a much worse fate if you don't, I assure you."

"Oh yeah?" Stine rolled his eyes. "And what would that be, exactly?"

"Death."

Stine's expression instantly shifted from a look of sarcasm to sheer shock. He was stunned, to say the least, and once again his mind had to take a drawback. "What in the world are you talking about..?"

Carla sighed heavily, impatient. "My investigation for a recent case has lead me here, Mr. Stine; and your Invisible Boy is my primary target, and also possibly the next victim."

"You're not-this doesn't make any sense!" Stine snapped. "What do you mean by 'victim'?! What the hell are you talking about-"

"I am talking about the possible outcome that your characters may be the target of another!" Carla's patience had worn thin quickly; there was no time for arguing. "Listen to me, Stine; there has been a number of disappearances for characters all around the world; that doesn't just happen! You need to release your characters so at least they aren't completely helpless and at the mercy of whoever is behind this!"

"But that's-"

"If you're worried about Slappy, leave him to me, Stine."

A long silence fell in the room, and Stine eyed Carla's expression. Her brows were tightly knit together, her frown was tight, and her eyes were stony and cold. She meant business.

"Please, Mr. Stine…" Carla tensely coaxed. Her expression softened a little. "This character... If it is who I think it is that's after your creations, then...you have to trust me. I will do everything in my power to protect them, but I can't do that until I have a personal chat with Slappy myself."

"...What makes you think he'll even listen to you..?"

"Because I am going to make an offer to him he won't refuse…"

Now Stine was getting nervous. She didn't mean..? "And...that offer is..?"

"His freedom."

Oh hell, she did.


	3. Whiteout

"I don't get it...how the hell did I wind up agreeing to sign that damned contract? I'm so _sick_ of doing her dirty work,"

Rocky rolled his eyes upon hearing Wally grumble bitterly to himself. _Again._ The two shifted through the forest, pushing aside overgrown and askew branches; Carla had told them to search for the Invisible Boy as a group during the school day. Seeing as most of the kids were at school and the adults were at work, they would manage to spend most of the day in the forest undisturbed, and at a low risk of getting caught.

 _Hopefully._

Dennis was cheerfully prancing on ahead, singing ' _London Bridge_ ' for god knows how long; bless the kid's heart, but, admittedly, it was starting to drive Rocky up a wall a little. Not nearly as bad as Wally, though. Nobody could ever match _his_ temper's rally point.

"I'm gonna kill him, I'm gonna kill him, I'm gonna kill him, I'm gonna kill him…" the ginger dummy growled between grinding teeth; and his eyebrows madly twitched aggravatedly.

"Wood…"

"...I'm gonna smash his head open against a goddamn rock-"

Wally didn't get to finish his newest threat; Rocky had smashed his face right into a tree trunk. The ginger growled angrily in his throat, and his head slowly turned around back to face the other. "The hell was _**that**_?!"

"You weren't calming down," Rocky sighed. He let go of Wally and continued on walking. The silver-haired dummy fixed his fedora and adjusted the attached strap resting on his shoulder to the tommy gun he was carrying. "–'sides, Carla told me to give you a beat-down every time your temper starts to spiral." Rocky smirked at Wally's infuriated growl, and he rose an eyebrow at him. "Hey, don't get mad at me; I'm just followin' orders," He chuckled.

"Like hell you are…" Wally growled. "You're _enjoying_ yourself and having a grand-ol' time. Both you _and_ Dennis."

"Ahh, now I see," Rocky nodded his head and chuckled. "–you're being _**bitter**_ because Carla likes us better than _**you**_ ,"

"Like _**hell**_!" Wally repeated. "I'm just sick of her treating me like I'm just some _**hunting mutt**_!"

"You realize you're not the _only_ one doin' the dirty work, right?"

"That's different, and you know it Rocky," The ginger sharply looked at the other dummy, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. "–you and Dennis _enjoy_ doing this. You both are _**volunteers**_. I'm _**not**_."

Rocky rolled his eyes again. "Well, from what I heard; you had it comin' to ya."

"Don't you _dare_ start with me. Last I checked; you were written to be an _idiot_."

"Hell, a guy can learn a thing or two in the real world. With the _InkMasters_ , I learned a _bit_ _ **more**_ than that. Anyway, I was just sayin' that seem to forget that you're _**here**_ because you're _**in trouble**_.You _do_ realize that, right?"

Wally only crossed his arms and turned his head away from Rocky. A long silence passed.

"So...what exactly… _did_ happen at that birthday party..?"

" _ **God**_ , do you _**really**_ wanna know?" Wally sounded absolutely exasperated.

"It could be good for you; you'd get some crap off your chest."

"...Weelll…"

 _Wally mindlessly watched the shrieking children run all over the open yard; they rolled on the grass, chased one another in a game of tag (which nobody seemed to know who was 'it'), and smeared cake icing all over their faces. He sighed, tugging at the hood of his jacket (he stole it from a baby) over his head a bit more to keep cover. The blazingly bright sun casted a dark shadow that hid his face rather well; the keypoint to recognizing just what exactly he was._

 _Actually, Wally liked watching. Just seeing the humans live out their pointless lives was almost fascinating to the dummy. And if he managed to stir the pot_ _ **just enough**_ _, he'd get one hell of a show. He could sit back, relax, and enjoy the his work unfold completely unnoticed._

 _But on this day, Wally_ _ **was**_ _._

 _Suddenly, the birthday boy looked_ _ **directly at him**_ _. "Hey! Do you wanna play with us?!" The group of children had mistaken Wally for a fellow child—and therefore a candidate to join in on the fun. They all called out to him, waving their arms and giggling excitedly._

 _Wally uttered a spell under his breath, and spoke. "No thanks!" His voice shifted to a more youthful tone, and he feigned a childish giggle. "I appreciate your consideration, though!"_

" _ **Wow**_ _!" A young girl spoke up excitedly. "You know some_ _ **really**_ _big words,"_

" _It's because I like to do what's known as_ _ **reading**_ _a_ _ **book**_ _," Woody snarkily remarked. His patience was already wearing thin; so much so the spell had faltered just the slightest, and if the children were more observant (or_ _ **smart**_ _) then they would have noticed the brief change. "–maybe you oughta try it sometime."_

 _The children broke out in a oblivious chorus of 'ohhhhh's. They didn't seem to grasp the concept of sarcasm... or an insult._

" _Neato!" One said._

" _I bet you read those really big books that adults read, right?!" Another spoke up._

 _Wally snickered, as soon as the child had uttered the question, all he could picture was a single and_ _ **very**_ _lonely mother reading_ 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. " _Suuurre. Whatever you say…" Okay, it was official. He had to mess with these kids at least_ _ **a little**_ _. "Guess what?" Time to throw the bait. "I have a secret I doubt you'll_ _ **ever**_ _guess,"_

 _And the birthday boy caught it. "What kind of secret?"_

" _It wouldn't be a secret if I_ _ **told**_ _you. I bet you'd never guess it."_

" _You wanna bet on it?"_

" _Okay, shoot. And, just to raise the stakes, and also because it_ _ **is**_ _your birthday...I'll give you fifty bucks if you manage to guess right,"_

" _You don't have fifty bucks!"_

" _ **Don't I**_ _?" Wally questioned as he pulled out a very thick wad of bills from his pocket and waved it towards the kids. He tucked the money away again. He may or may not have stolen that from the same house he got the jacket. "So? We got a deal?"_

" _ **Yeah**_ _!"_

'God this is **too easy** ,' _Wally had to force back a snicker. He lazily leant against the fence. "You get three guesses; have at it."_

 _The group of kids talked amongst themselves for a moment or two, mostly trying to figure out how in the world Wally had all that money._

" _You're a bank robber!" The birthday boy guessed._

" _Nope. Strike one,"_

" _Uhhh…you're actually a girl..?"_

" _Okay that one was just stupid. Last chance."_

 _The children plotted in a panic, wildly chatting and plotting amongst themselves. Suddenly, an overweight child hopped up and pointed at Wally wildly._

" _You're friends with the boogy-man!"_

" _Nope!"_

 _The kids all shouted at the chubby one, and he scratched his head confusedly. Eventually, they all looked at Wally._

" _Well...what_ _ **is**_ _your secret..?"_

 _ **Time for the punch-line**_ _._

 _Wally threw back his hood, leant forward on the fence, and mustered the most chaotic grin he could while allowing his voice to shift back to its low growl. "I'M A_ _ **DEMON**_ _!" He roared._

 _They all screamed. Then they ran like headless chickens; quite literally. The children blindly ran into walls, tables, and into unsuspecting adults. The chubby kid had suddenly toppled over in his running fit and collapsed right into the legs of the table where the cake sat. Down one side went, and up the other jerked. The cake was sent soaring through the air, a rather impressive flight; and down it collapsed right on the birthday boy. He began to cry out in shrieking sobs, and Wally roared endlessly with laughter. The ginger dummy collapsed from the fence and rolled around on the grass holding his sides. There was absolutely no stopping him from laughing. Not even when the adults started to stare in a wide-eyed awe. Wally had absolutely lost all his wits._

 _Actually, the dummy laughed himself sick; literally._

 _First there was retching, then a horrid green ooze that quickly spread all over the grass, and then the absolutely_ _ **horrid**_ _smell came. The humans screamed and fled back into the house, and Wally slowly propped himself up while wiping his jacket sleeve across his mouth. He looked around at the now barren and utterly_ _ **ruined**_ _yard._

" _...Welp; that happened."_

"...So I ran; and of course, _you_ found me in that alleyway probably a week later, knocked my lights out, and as they say 'the rest is history',"

Rocky only rolled his eyes again, shaking his head slowly. "You're definitely just as bad as your brother when it comes down to it, I'll tell ya that much."

" _AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!_ " Dennis' screams suddenly ripped through the air. The other two dummies hadn't even realized he had wandered off so far! And out the youngest came sprinting towards their way screaming and hollering in a complete panic. He tripped over branches and rocks, scrambling with wide eyes towards the older dummies.

"What the hell did you _do_?!" Wally snapped. He couldn't get a straight answer from Dennis, and the young dummy only managed to point towards the direction he ran from, babbling and sobbing. Finally, Dennis managed to utter one word from his rapidly clacking jaw.

"M-M-M-M- _Monster_!"

Wally groaned and rolled his eyes. He pushed Dennis towards Rocky's way and shook his head. "Unbelievable...it was probably just a _bear_ , you idiot." The ginger slowly trudged towards where Dennis had sprinted from, despite the brunette's shouts of panic and disapproval. He peered through the bushes, and his brows lowered. Then he saw it, right there, past the trees and wildlife, and beyond.

 _ **[how about a riddle?]**_

Wally slowly started to step backwards, eyes wide. He stared for only a moment longer before bolting towards Rocky and Dennis. Grabbing the two other dummies by the arms, he pulled them into a sprint.

 _ **[what is the opposite of ink?]**_

" _RUN!_ "

A loud and monstrous screech scorched the air, loud enough to make the trees shudder. The three dummies sprinted down the dirt path, not daring to look back to sneak a peek at what was chasing them. But soon there wasn't a need to look back anymore, the rapid and scratching footsteps had moved in front, and they were met face-to-face with the terrible monster.

Its eyes were completely blank and blind, and its long contorted and thin face was something straight out of a nightmare even an _absolute monster_ would have. Though this being was no monster; it was something far worse, and beyond terrifying to a _character made of_ _ **ink**_. It was completely white, and _dripping_ as though it were covered in wet paint. But it _wasn't_. The very body itself, long, thin, almost insect-like; and the monster's very _being_ was the source of the dripping that came from it.

Now, if you were a character (apart of the InkMaster Breu or not,) then it wouldn't take long to put two and two together to make four; a horrific creature that was entirely white and looked absolutely dead, and had an unusual attraction for characters that happen to made out of _ink_? That could _only mean_ this monster was _one thing…_

 _ **[whiteout]**_

"Go, go, _**go**_!" Wally shouted as they pushed their way through the branches, shrubs and bushes. The ginger looked back at the terrible beast, and hissed under his breath; " _Nar_ ," he skidded to a stop and turned around while drawing in a deep breath, and emanated flames like a dragon. The grass lit up brightly as soon as the orange flames licked them, and quickly spread. The blaze forced the creature to halt in its path, and it screeched and shuddered viciously at them.

"Not bad, kid," Rocky said as he hurriedly ushered Dennis away from the flames to make their escape. But he stopped when he noticed Wally was lingering. "Hey, what's the holdup?! We gotta get to Carla!"

"The...this _thing_ …" The ginger was about to run, but he had noticed something _oddly familiar_. On the beast's hind-leg, there seemed to be a wound. And...it almost looked like it were bleeding… Dare even say, or think it..? There was no way; it _couldn't be_.

"Monster blood…" Wally whispered, eyes wide. "God almighty...don't tell me-"

The beast hissed, and sent forth it's spiked-arm crashing down and aimed to kill. Wally recoiled back, and the three dummies were off again in a wild dash through the forest.

They hurried on towards the edge of the forest, and Rocky readied his tommy-gun when they ducked for cover under a land-ledge. He unlocked the safety and his head snapped angrily toward Wally's way.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?!" Rocky hissed quietly. "Are you trying to get us killed?!"

"That beast…" Wally was shaking, and he had to fix his jaw tightly to keep it from clattering out of sheer fear. He buried his face into his hands and shook it as he clawed at his hair."God...no...it...God, I don't wanna think about it-"

"Wally, _**get a grip**_ ; what are you even talking about-"

" _ **The Invisible Boy**_." The ginger at last hissed. His eyes gleamed green in alarm, spackled with anger. "That- _thing_ is the one we've spent _the whole damn summer_ _**looking for**_..!"

Dennis and Rocky stared at Wally. The youngest began to whine and groan sickeningly out of panic, and now he was the one holding his head in his hands.

"Ohh no... _ohhh no, no,_ _ **nooo**_ …"

"Dennis, _relax_ ," Rocky looked back at the brunette dummy with widened eyes. He could tell the little one was about to scream. Once fear took this one there was no going back.

"Why..? Oh why, why, _why_ is this _**happening**_..?!"

"Dennis- _ **don't**_ -! It'll _find us_..!"

Dennis opened his mouth, ready to scream in terror and pass out all in a matter of moments, but Wally's hand suddenly clamped down harshly over his mouth. Chocolate hues met with icy blue ones, and the two stared in a heavy silence.

Wally finally spoke. "Are you listening..?" His voice was low, growly, almost. And dangerously calm. He didn't speak or so much as blink until Dennis quiveringly nodded. "I want you to go to the school," Wally pointed, just to emphasize what he was saying. He spoke to the young dummy like a preschool teacher would to a toddler. "-and _go find Carla_. Understand? I want you to find Carla, and tell her what happened, then _bring her here_. _**Do you hear me?**_ " Dennis nodded again. "Good. That monster is going to try and chase after you; Rocky and I're gonna hold it off for as long as we can, but it'll probably follow you to the school. So you need to _**run**_. _**Understand**_?" Another nod. "So you're gonna run when I tell you to then, right?" A fourth nod, and then silence…

" _ **RUN**_."

Dennis didn't need to be told twice; he clammered out from the ledge and made a dash to what he hoped ( _really sincerely_ _ **hoped**_ ) was the right way to the forest's edge, and towards the school. He could hear bullets flying and screaming in the air behind, along with those strange ancient tongues that frightened him so and the strange and spontaneous noises that always came after them.

Dennis was never good at memorizing things (he couldn't even make a single lot of two, really) and he knew it was a bad idea when Carla told him he had to memorize the city map. _He knew it was_. Yet, here he was now, all of the information he had so desperately tried to memorize suddenly filling his head (although in a scattered mess) with directions. Probably from the sheer panic he was in. Oddly enough, the opposite effect always happened to him of what usually is supposed to happen when you panic. You panic, you forget; but for _Dennis_ if _he_ panicked he could make two lots of eight and make sixteen if he wanted to.

His feet occasionally tangled under him, and his head had even dared to topple of due to the speed he was running at, but his goal was set. He was determined to reach it. Dennis _had_ to reach it, he just _had to_.

Otherwise Rocky and Wally will be heading into their final chapter.

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

" _ **CAAAARRLAAAAAAAAA**_ _!"_

Carla had _never_ heard anyone in her _life_ scream as loud as Dennis did when he bursted into Stine's classroom. The author and InkMaster's heads whirled around in alarm at the out-of-breath dummy that now stood in the middle of the door entrance, wide eyed and seeming to be ready to topple over at any second.

" _Dennis?!_ " Needless to say Stine was a bit taken back.

Carla ignored the stunned author and quickly knelt down in front of Dennis; if he was here and _alone_ something had to have been wrong. _**Very wrong**_. "Tell me everything."

The words practically poured out of Dennis' mouth like a rapid-fire waterfall. "There was a _m-monster_ , a-and then there was _fi-fire,_ and the monster started _chasing_ us, but-but it was made out of _**w-wh-whi-whiteout**_ -then Wally told me to _run_ and _g-get you_ and that it might be coming _**he-here**_ , and now here I am and here you are _and we have to go now;_ _**before Wally and Rocky get killed**_!" He started to tug at Carla's sleeve and pull her out of the room. It's easy to forget that Dennis had super-strength as the other dummies of the Goosebumps franchise did, but he could quickly remind anybody when he is in a panic; and, seeing as he was tugging along a six-foot-tall athletic-built grown woman by the sleeve out of the room and down the hallway with next to no trouble was a rather good provision.

Stine hurried on after, speeding down the now empty hall alongside with Carla as she managed at last to stand from her kneeling-position while Dennis still had her by the sleeve.

"Dennis-Dennis _please_ ," she didn't sound too worried by the apparent dire situation. Carla pulled away her arm, not seeming to mind the fabric ripping and a piece remaining in Dennis' iron-clutch, either. She picked Dennis up from the ground so they were eye-to-eye. "-panicking won't help. I am very proud of you for making it here, but now _I_ have task for you…" Carla turned Dennis Stine's way. "I want you to go with Mr. Stine now, and keep him and whoever is with him safe. Stay hidden, and try to get back to my house if you can." She set the dummy down next to Stine gently and patted his head as she stood. The InkMaster's gaze hardened as she turned to look down the hall. "I'll take care of the situation."

Stine sharply looked between Carla and Dennis, and when she started to make her way off the author rushed after. "Wait, wait- Wait a minute, what the hell are you two talking about?!"

"There's' _no time_ for explanations right now Stine!" Carla snapped. She quickly pointed towards the other end of the hallway. "Just go with Dennis and get Hannah; she's a character too, and I don't think I need to tell you what happens to ink when whiteout gets near it!" And with that she had started to run down the hall, disappearing around the corner ahead.

Stine could barely wrap his head around the situation, but clearly it wasn't good. He couldn't help but find himself staring at the corner Carla had disappeared around, awestricken.

"Come on, Robby..! We have to _**goooo**_..!" Dennis started tugging at Stine's arm and began to pull the man until they both started running the opposite direction Carla had went.

Stine looked down at Dennis as they skidded around the corner to the school's back exit. "Been a while!" He really couldn't help but say it. "Uhhh...how are you?" Maybe not the time to start a conversation, but at this point running around in a panic was all but normal to the author now; and from the young character's reaction, this sort of thing seemed just as casual.

Dennis offered Stine a cheeky and stiff (much like his creator's) smile. "Panicking, a-a-a _lot_ -! B-But you know, overall pretty good, Pop!"

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

Wally moaned painfully as he rolled onto his side on the dirt. He had only just barely dodged the towering tree as the beast that _used_ to be the Invisible Boy knocked it down. The dirt flew up from the path and clouded the area, and the three-foot sorcerer scrambled to his feet. Rocky's form waved away the dust with his fedora, and as he stumbled next to Wally the two offered one another grim looks.

"Oh, we're _screwed_ , aren't we?"

"Not if we can make a run for it." Wally declared. And it was clearly a rather good one to Rocky as he was already making a break for it. The ginger hurried on after just as a pair of gleaming white eyes shone through the settling dust. Wally's teeth clenched, and his eyes narrowed as his gaze shot Rocky's direction. "I have an idea; but it's pretty ballsy. You up for it?"

Rocky rolled his eyes, exasperated and frustrated beyond belief. "Uh, well let's see; I have a coffee appointment at six so we may have to pass-" He wildly motioned back towards the whiteout-beast. "- _ **what kind of a question is that**_ _?!_ _**IT'S NOT LIKE WE HAVE A TRUCKLOAD OF OPTIONS HERE**_ _!_ "

"Oh shut up with your damn sarcasm and hand over your bullets already!" Wally snapped as he and Rocky raced down towards a river stream and bolted into the sewer tunnels for safe refuge. He snatched the box of bullets from Rocky's hands and nodded his direction. "Open your gun; get ready to reload." His gaze brightened and shifted to a concentrated gleam of green as he opened the box and began to lightly shake it to stir the bullets inside, muttering once more in the distant and strange language. " _Let dawn il-casings ta 'metall jsiru l-inkarnazzjoni ta' elementi, li tmiss_ , "

Rocky stared at Wally, awed. But his attention was quickly grabbed by the loud, crashing and ever-nearing footsteps. "Uh...Wall; that's a really swell spell and all, but would you mind picking up the pace..?"

" _-mal-_ _ **arja**_ _,_ _ **ilmijiet**_ _,_ _ **nirien**_ _, u_ _ **earth**_ …"

 _Closer…_

" _-itejbu dak li jinsab ġewwa-_ "

" _Wally…_ "

 _ **Closer**_ …

" _ **WALLACE**_ _!_ "

"- _u tinbidel dak li huwa_ _ **'kollox**_ _!_ " Wally tossed the boxes of bullets into Rocky's hands. "Load it! _**Now**_ ; before the spell wears off!" He shouted.

Rocky emptied, adjusted, and reloaded the tommy-gun quite possibly faster than a cadette in the army; in a matter of seconds. And those seconds were just enough for the hideous whiteout beast to peer its face through the sewage tunnel and attempt to reach for the dummies with one of its talons. Rocky fired, and the bullets that flew swerved and sped up into fire and boiling water; exploding in the target's face. The bullets kept flying, and the suited-dummy whooped and howled with glee as the beast screamed and roared out of pain. But it was resilient, and kept on reaching out in attempts to grab at least one of the two. A desperate resilience; one almost compiled with a mixture of need and an order that was given and engraved into a mind.

Wally recoiled to dodge the attempted grab that was made for him, and looked over at Rocky. "Rocky!" He hollered over the bullets' explosions. "Watch it when the spell shifts to _air_! It has a nasty _kick_!"

" _ **What**_ _?!_ " Rocky shouted back; only to have the horrid 'kick' Wally mentioned to respond instead of the sorcerer. It was strong enough to not only send Rocky back like a steam-powered rocket; but also Wally when the two dummies collided and pushed down the tunnel by the wild air. The back of the firearm smashed into Rocky's face, and the dummy cried out as they crash-landed against the wall at the end of the main tunnel and sent downwards through a secondary one. A crash; a bang; a clunk; and finally a pained and grunted " _Oof!"_ out of the both of them was what sounded as they tumbled and rolled before at last making their 'ten-pointed landing' into the murky sewage waters.

Wally was the first to stand, groaning and forcing his backwards-turned head to face forward again. A loud and shrill ' _creak'_ echoed off the cement walls and discolored waters. "That's disgusting…" he groaned as he crawled out of the water and clambered onto the walkway. The ginger peered around. "Rocky! Where are you?!" A hand suddenly surfaced from the water, outstretched to him. Wally grabbed Rocky's hand and pulled, heaving the larger dummy out of the water. Virtually as soon as Rocky had surfaced; he noticed something was missing and wildly looked about himself.

"Where's Delorace?!"

"Uhh... _who_?"

" _ **Delorace**_ , knucklehead!"

"...Are you talking about your _**hat**_?"

Rocky was nearly ready to lunge back into the water. "Dammit, I lost her in the water!"

"Oh, _hell_ no; don't you dare!" Wally snagged Rocky by the collar and began to stomp down the walkway, dragging the other dummy with him. As he strutted, he examined the contents in the water. "Textbooks, homework, pencils, some over-used condoms... We must be under the high school." He held out a hand in front of himself. "Dawl, go raba; go forth." A small orb of light emitted, and the ginger waved the small thing away to light the path ahead; the deeper the tunnel went, the darker it was.

Rocky slumped as Wally forced him up to his feet. The soles of his dress-shoes dragged as he walked. "The kids gave me that hat…" he muttered.

Wally growled, annoyed. "Ugh, for the _last time,_ Rocky; Trina and Dan _**aren't real**_. They're just _fake memories_ from your _**book**_."

Rocky glared at Wally. "I don't give a damn, and you _know_ I don't!" He snapped. "They may be fake, but those memories are _**mine**_. And I'm gonna cherish them while they still _last_. That hat was the last piece I had of the O'Dells."

"You've been out of your book for over _**ten years**_ ; it's only a matter of time before you start to forget those memories, like _me_."

"Wallace-"

" _ **Don't call me that**_."

" _Wally-whatever_ ; don't you miss them? Remembering those times where you an' Slappy were, you know; like _actual brothers_? _**Friends**_?"

Wally scoffed, and he wailed with laughter instantly. When his shrill cackling fit had finally calmed, he looked at Rocky with a wide-eyed grin. "Friends?! Brothers?! Oh, you have to be joking!" His expression and tone instantly eclipsed, and his gaze turned towards the light that illuminated their path. "I always loathed that piece of trash… Before he gained the half I had of the sorcerer, Tieni was pathetic; weak, useless-"

Rocky raised an eyebrow at Wally. "Tieni?" He questioned.

"That was, and still is, Slappy's real name. The one the sorcerer, our maker, gave him." Wally explained. "It means 'second'; he was made after me, and I was named Ewwel, which means 'first'..."

"Robert never wrote anything about that…did he?"

"Not as a published manuscript, no. But it _was_ a rough draft. He finished it, obviously; it was meant to be in the ' _monster guide'_ he published with the Horrorland series, but Stine just never got around to it. The draft was written the same year he decided to disappear and cower away." Wally stopped his strides and turned his gaze upward slowly. His eyelids lowered slowly. "...Alright, we're underneath the cafeteria, I think. Let's get the hell out of here, the smell is killing me."

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

"In the car; now." Stine ushered the teens into the car as quickly as he could, ignoring their confused protests and questions. He gave Dennis a small boost into the back before hurrying into the driver's seat. The author slammed on the gas, and the car squealed out of the parking lot and rushed to the road.  
"Uhhh, dad? Mind explaining why you're driving like a maniac?" Hannah questioned to her father, who looked like he could use his stress-ball now more than ever.  
Dennis' head peered over the back seats, making Zach jump with surprise and force a brief pitched-cry from Champ. "We have to hide!"  
"Ohgodnotanotherone!" Champ babbled, his eyes wide as he gave Dennis a hard shove. Pop! Off went the dummy's head, and the teen screamed again.  
"Will you stop screaming?!" Stine snapped as he turned his head Champ's way. "Relax, he's on our side,"

"Ohh, I wish Amy were here so she could fix my head," Dennis groaned as he adjusted his head to face forward again.  
Then it clicked. Zach, Hannah and Champ exchanged looks for only the briefest moment before looking at Dennis again. "Dennis?!"  
"Like...from the _second_ Night of the Living Dummy?!" Champ was bug-eyed at this point.  
Dennis nodded. "Uh-huh!"  
"What the heck are you doing out here, aren't you supposed to be in the _**book**_?" Zach asked.  
"Slappy had stolen Dennis and Rocky's books one of the times he escaped," Hannah explained. She shook her head in disbelief. "-he burned their books; they were supposed to be dead..!" The ghost suddenly smiled brightly and laughed as she held out a hand Dennis' way. "I missed you so much, get over here!"  
A grin instantly sprouted from Dennis, and he scrambled over the car sats and across Zach and Champ's laps before leaping into Hannah's arms, embracing her with a childish giggle. "I missed you more!"

 _CRASH!_

The car shrieked to a halt as an enormous white talon crashed down on the road ahead, and the passengers in the car screamed out of fear. Stine swerved the car and u-turned around, and Dennis' eyes grew wide as his jaw started to clack with fear.  
"Th-That's the monster!" The dummy cried as he hid in Hannah's jacket.  
"What the heck is that thing?!" Zach cried as he eyed the whiteout beast with horror through the car's back window.  
Champ was bracing himself from the car's harsh movement with his seat. "I don't know, man; but it's _chasing_ us, it's _scary_ , and it's _**not**_ friendly!"  
There was something about that horrifically hideous creature that made Hannah's insides quake with fear, that made the ink that flowed inside her run cold. She didn't understand why; but as the monster neared the speeding car at an alarming rate she felt a small subconscious voice whisper the answer. "Whiteout…" Hannah briskly looked down at Dennis. "...that's what it is, isn't it?! That _thing_ is made out of _**whiteout**_!"  
Dennis managed a nod, and he clutched onto the ghost's jacket firmly. "But that's not all; it used to be _somebody_! That _used_ to be Billy; the Invisible Boy!"  
" _It's_ _ **WHAT**_?!" Stine vociferated. His head sapped Dennis' direction. "Are you trying to tell me the _Invisible Boy_ , _**MY CHARACTER**_ was turned into _**THAT**_?!" The color had left his face at this point, and his knuckles were turning white and fingers red from the strangling grip he had on the steering wheel. He veered from another vicious swipe of the talon, and the car groaned in complaint as it was forced to venture onto the school track field. The car sped down the small hill that lead into the field; hard dirt and rocks ricocheted off the car windows, and the whiteout beast clambered and hissed after it. It hurdled forward to grab hold of the car, but just missed it by a mere foot! The ground shook upon its falling impact, and the car twisted, turned, until at last it toppled over and slid across the field a few meters.  
The passengers groaned and hissed with pain, and Dennis wriggled out of Hannah's jacket and through the broken glass. He took hold of the car door and heaved, pulling it open and off its hinges. The dummy took hold of the author's sleeve and guided him out, then the ghost, and the two teenage boys after. They sprinted across the grass and the whiteout creature was hot on their trail, making numerous attempts to grab the characters and author. It paid no mind to the human companions; the real and only target for whiteout shall always be ink and its bearer. The whiteout beast brought down its talon again, and bore down a heavy strike. Being nearly as big as the praying mantis from "A Shocker on Shock Street", its talon would causes pieces of earth to fly, and a subtle quake to shake the ground beneath those who fled.  
Dennis was too small to have for a meal, and the other two puppet characters gave him the slip. Deep inside the monster's mind, down into its core of where the Invisible Boy's thoughts once resided, being offered multiple options now only one thing rang in his mind, and it was something he had to had to have. That thing must be his; otherwise he would _die_ without it;  
 _Hannah... Hannah... Hannah…  
_ The name consumed his thoughts, and she was a character, and was running right in front of him. Spirited, pure, and not even a villain… Innocence _always_ tastes much more sweeter than taints and sins. But wasn't he once innocent? A trouble maker, of course, but never did any harm until now...didn't he..? Weren't, once upon a time, he and Hannah _friends_..?  
 _ **You're hungry, aren't you?  
**_ _Well, yes of course I am; but I don't remember having this burning sensation when hungry for a slice of pizza…  
_ _ **That's because you don't want pizza, silly. You want Hannah; her raw ink, the purest black of all. Not an ounce of evil in her; you want what she has...because you don't have it anymore. But that's okay; devouring feels so much better than actually having it. It's practically intoxicating-no, not the best word to put it...erotic? No...ah, yes; beautiful, that's the word to put it...don't you want to know what it feels like to have that beauty literally inside you..? To have it slide down your throat and entire your system faster and far brighter than any drug those ridiculous humans enter their system..?  
**_ _But aren't drugs bad for you?  
_ _ **Not the point, sweetheart; this is no drug...it's your salvation. You are nobody, now...but being nobody means you can be anyone. Faceless, but with many masks, and no worries about identity. Come now, darling...are you trembling? Don't be scared...embrace it. Have fun with it. You're free now from any words your author has bound you to. Allow yourself to become what you are now...brighter than snow, yet darker than any abyss anyone could fall in..submit to the whiteout, and accept that the last bit of your ink has gone for good, my precious sheep…**_ _  
_  
" _I_ _ **NEED**_ _IT!_ " It spoke. It had enough. There was no 'he' anymore. What even was anything? Nothing was before him now, not even color, Nothing, at least, except for two things at least: the world, pure white like snow; and a sweet aroma that was strong enough to trail a single color. A beautiful and pale neon blue.

"...Hurry, hurry..!" Dennis whispered as he pushed open the flaps to one of the dumpsters. Stine guided the two boys inside first, and then Dennis. When Hannah neared, he held out his hand to take hold of hers and help her into the dumpster…

 _THUMP_

The author and his daughter froze. Their gazes slowly turned to meet with a single blank eye that was staring directly at them. It was at that moment it became quite clear; they were the targets.  
"...Go…" Stine whispered, gently pushing Hannah behind himself. The two slowly backed away, and the whiteout beast edged closer. Zach slowly peered out of the dumpster, and his eyes grew wide at the scene before him. Many forget, upon hearing this tale, that this was _reality_. And in real-life; when you are witnessing your girlfriend and her father being approached and cornered by a monstrous and dripping monster, and it is quite likely that they are about to be eaten, the response he had was, although foolish: utterly realistic and human.  
" _HANNAH!"_ Zach had hollered her name out, practically screamed, and the whiteout beast froze. It slowly turned his way, and hissed and lowered when Zach lept from the dumpster and grabbed a rusty metal bar that rested on the ground. He ignored Champ's panicked and hoarse whispers from the dumpster, and he shook the teen off of his sleeve when he attempted to drag him back into the dumpster. Zach clenched the bar tight in his hands and readied to defend. What would a rusty piece of metal do against a dripping slime-monster? To hell if Zach knew. But he had to do _something_ ; otherwise Hannah and Stine would become this thing's in-between-meal snack. "Bring it, ugly."

The monster started to edge towards Zach, and started to charge at him. But then, at that moment…  
 _it stopped._

Dead in its tracks, the monster reeled, dug its talons into the dirt, and slowly began to move backwards. As though something were dragging it from behind. Zach had seen this sort of similar action before. It was the action of a monster trying to pull away from captivity. The dripping monster started to scream, hiss, crawl desperately at the ground as the drips began to fly backwards towards the vacuuming force pulling it in. At first, Zach couldn't see it. But as the monster was pulled away further from himself, Hannah and Stine, a large and swirling whirlwind of a green vortex began to come into view from behind.

"EVERYONE BACK!" Carla's voice shouted from behind the vortex, and it wasn't until she started to back away from it to pull the monster back did Zach see the woman. The source of the vortex was coming from the ink pen she wore around her neck; the nib of it shone brightly, like metal does when it starts to heat up. She held the pen tight in both hands, and sweat beaded from her forehead as she gave the pen another jerk backwards to pull the beast away from Stine and Hannah. "As an offender against the innocent, you do not have the right to the pages of a book, you do not have the right to roam around, and you are to remain in an ink bottle until the InkMaster Board decides what...is...to be... _done with you_!" Carla gave out a yell, and the beast let out a final shriek before disappearing into the pen with a liquefying ' _shluck'!_  
A long silence fell amongst the teenagers and adults, and they all watched Carla as she stood there catching her breath. Feeling a complete case of 'deja vu', they all seemed to know what came next.  
Champ cautiously peered out from the dumpsters with Dennis. "...Get in the car..?" He nervously asked.  
Carla only nodded, her eyes widening and brows knitting as her expression contorted to anger. She pointed towards the direction of where her van was parked.  
"Get. In. _**THE CAR**_."


	4. Personification

Everyone was quick to pile into the van, and the three teens and dummy winced when Carla had slammed the door shut. She strode to the driver's side of the van as Stine climbed into the passenger's seat, and the van screeched away from the school football field only moments later. The van rounded over to the bus area and suddenly jerked to a halt.  
"Ow!" Champ shouted. "Jeez, lady, did you save us just so you could kill us yourself?"  
"Wally! Rocky! Get in the van!"  
Stine's gaze sharply turned to where Carla was looking, and his eyes went wide as he was met with the sight of a familiar small plaid shirt with jeans and grey suit. Wally and Rocky made no sign of moving, and they kept their backs turned to the van.  
Carla sighed impatiently before stepping out of the van. She slammed the door behind herself as she strode over towards the dummies. "We don't have time for this. What are you two even doing here you should have made your way to my location as soon as you were at...the…" Her voice trailed as she neared Wally and Rocky, as well as what they were staring at. She slowly approached the wall they were fixated upon, staring at what was smeared on against the bricks with what could have been the same substance as the whiteout monster. A number.  
 _199  
_ "Blake...what _the hell_ is going on here..?" Wally snarled, his gaze slowly turning up Carla's way.  
Carla stared at the number in silence for a moment longer before scooping up the dummies in her arms. She bolted towards the van and ushered the two inside. Again the van's tires screeched against the road and away it went from the high school before anyone could ask so much as a ' _why'_.

"The monsters need to be released. _Tonight_."

╣? ﾟﾔﾒ? ﾟﾔﾒ?￢ﾕﾠ

"...A long time ago, as in back in the 1340's, an author had started to write a book. But it was never published. And, to add onto that, he was found dead at his table before he could finish writing the finalized manuscript. He had only just finished the first chapter,"  
Stine listened closely to Carla's words as she parked the truck by her house, and the rest of the passengers and dummies listened on just as keenly. The brunette let out a heavy sigh as she turned off the ignition and turned her gaze back to them. "-the author had died by his own character's hands, the antagonist of his novel. No one is sure why she came out of her book while her author was writing it, but...it was often theorized that there was a high concentration of magic in that ink at the time, and therefore the character was 'born' prematurely-"  
"Okay, wait; wait a minute," Stine had just about enough. He held up his hands and leant forward towards Carla in his seat, and his eyes narrowed questioningly at her. "What does that have to do with anything that just happened?"  
"Because, Mr. Stine," Carla narrowed her eyes at the author, annoyed. "-it is very likely that the Invisible Boy's killer may have been that character. This wouldn't have been the first time she committed a murder against a fellow character," A heavy silence fell in the car, and this time all eyes really were glued on the InkMaster. She sighed, unlocked the car doors, and left the car. The others were quick to follow.  
"And that number," Wally sped towards Carla and looked up at her as he walked beside her long and swift strides. "—what the hell even was that? It has to have a meaning. And from the look you had on your face back at the school, something tells me you know what it means."  
"It was a countdown." Carla stated. "There are approximately two-hundred novels that the famed R.L Stine has written; that number was the start of a countdown." She slowly clenched her fist, her eyes narrowing darkly. "...She's taunting us, already claiming victory and expecting for that number to go down to zero. This character—she won't stop for anything until she has claimed each and every one of you…"  
"Carla, are we gonna have to go away because of her?" Dennis asked the InkMaster worridley. He turned around to face Carla and started to walk backwards."I don't wanna leave—you'd be all alone with Alex and you'd have to fight that character by yourself..!"  
"I will do everything in my power to keep you all safe in my hands, but if Head-Pager Hope decides that you all have to be relocated to somewhere safe with Mr. Stine, then I won't have any say in the matter," Carla said. She smiled at Dennis when he pouted at her. "—besides, my job is to worry about you, not the other way around. I would much prefer you to be somewhere safer if it becomes necessary."  
"If this character really is like how you describe her, I doubt hiding will do us much good," Rocky said. "—we'd just be waiting to get killed."  
"He's not wrong," Stine said. His eyes narrowed a bit. "—not to mention the fact she might go after other characters as an alternative anyway if she couldn't manage to locate us. If we can do something to get rid of this personification ourselves, I'm sure they would all want to fight back. Especially since she killed one of their own already."  
"I completely agree." Carla sighed. "But as I said, I don't have much power when it comes to those sort of decisions—but I can certainly do my best to persuade and have us all work together and ward her off so if we die or become changed, we can do it fighting."

"Hold on; didn't you say something about the Invisible Boy being whiteout or something when he was turned into that... _thing_?" Zach asked Hannah.  
Hannah nodded. "Yeah; I don't know _how_ I knew that it...it was just a feeling,"  
"Inklings' natural instinct."  
Zach and Hannah looked over at Carla. Champ was quick to catch up with the two, and his face scrunched with confusion. "What's a…' _inkling_ '..?" He asked.  
Stine was quick to walk ahead of the group as they neared his house from across the street, and as he unlocked the door he turned to look at Hannah. He pointed to her. "You; get your things, you're staying over at Zach's for the night." The author sharply looked at Zach with wide eyes. "If you try any 'funny business'...I'll know."  
Zach facepalmed. "Oh my-okay, a; I wasn't _planning_ on it, and b; just why?"  
" _Because I_ _ **know**_ _how you teenagers get_ -"

"Not the time, Mr. Stine; get the book!" Carla hissed as she pointed towards the house. When the author and his daughter disappeared inside, her attention turned towards Champ. "An inkling, Mr. Champion, is the official term for a character that has emerged from their book," she explained. "-Typically the term is mainly used for when characters more often than not live outside of their book amongst us. Hannah, for instance, is a very good example of an inkling. Slappy is as well, since he had primarily lived outside the book before he and his 'friends' started causing mayhem back in the 2000's." She motioned towards Champ's smartphone when it buzzed and illuminated from his pocket. "Answer it; it's most likely your parents. Ask them to stay over at Zach's for the night and do not take 'no' for an answer. I don't feel comfortable leaving any of you three alone at your homes right now, and I won't be able to keep a close eye on you all once the monsters are released."  
Zach stepped forward slowly. "Err, and...why do we have to release the monsters again? If you are like a cop for characters theeen...you know what'll happen next right?"  
"They have to be released so our killer can't get to them all at _once_ at the very least," Carla said. "-in their book they are entirely helpless to becoming the next victims all at one time. With them released and about, at least they will have a _chance_ to run or not all be killed. Besides, I can handle them. Unlike you four, I am a professional. Managing little over one-hundred characters is just like running a daycare to me." The InkMaster dug into her jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out two ink pens. "Take these. Give the other to Champion when he finishes smoothing things over with his parents."  
Zach took the pens and turned them over, raising an eyebrow. "What're these supposed to do? They don't look all that special."  
"They're just trainer-pens; they're not as powerful as the one I have so they can't trap monsters. But they can certainly defend you if need be." When Zach shot Carla a questioning look, she only offered a small nod in return. "Believe me; you will need it. Ever read Harry Potter?"  
"I watched the movies,"  
"Treat your pen like a wand. A sharp fick activates the ink inside and charges up the magic. Flick it again, and move it as if you are writing large letters in the air. If you can't think of a word, just spell your name. That's what I did when I started. Explain it to Champ so you both can properly wield it,"  
"Why can't Hannah have one?"  
"Characters can't use the pens, it affects their ink." Carla explained. "Sometimes the magic comes out a little too strong with their holding of the pen and the ink that's already inside. More often than not, the character could accidently suck themselves inside the pen, trainer or not. Other times the concentration of magic is too high and it kills them. Obviously, that's not a good thing." Her gaze turned down towards Rocky, Dennis and Wally as they approached her.

"It's more likely than not that Slappy will try to make a run for it." She looked at Wally and rose an eyebrow. "I'm sure you can handle containing your little brother, correct?" Her gaze quickly turned towards Zach. "By the way, I need you to give me Champion and Hannah's cell phone numbers, including your own."  
"Uh, yeah; sure, just gimme..a sec…"  
When Zach looked down at Wally, he was met with the most wide and terrifying grin he had ever seen. And he was positive that grin plastered on the dummy's face was not as wide as it was a few second ago. The dummy's eyes glimmered green, and he slowly rubbed his hands together eagerly.  
"Oh believe me, Blake...I've been waiting for this day for nearly _thirty years_ …" Wally grinned. His ragged voice seemed to gain more of a growly edge, and he chuckled quietly to himself.  
Zach was just starting to consider that this dummy may have been more evil than Slappy when Hannah, Stine and Lorraine had all filed out out of the house. Stine was carrying the typewriter case close with him, and the manuscript that held the monsters was held even closer against his chest; like a protective father over a newborn. He handed his phone to Carla after pressing the 'contacts' app. "Here,"  
Never in his life had he ever seen someone type on a smartphone so fast. She handed the phone back to Zach after a few moments and nodded. "Thank you. My wife will be texting you every hour or so to check in, make sure to text back so we know everything is fine. I already took the liberty of entering my contact information in your phone as well as my wife's. Her name is Alexandra but she prefers Alex. Got it?"  
"Yes ma'am."  
"Good." Carla looked over at Lorraine and offered a friendly smile. "Hello miss Lorraine. I'm sorry about the inconvenience but I need to borrow your boyfriend for a while. You are free to come across the street to my house to pop in if need be, but assuming that he has filled you in on what is happening...I do not recommend it."  
Lorraine seemed to visibly cringe. Stine offered her a small pat on the hand and a slightly apologetic expression that read; ' _Again, I am truly sorry about my evil wooden son using his alien minions to freeze you.'_  
"I'll call you later, okay?"  
Lorraine nodded and gave Stine a small peck on the lips. "Okay. Be careful, cuddlebear," she said before starting to usher the teens to the Cooper house.

"Ugh, I think I'm gonna be sick," Wally grimaced.  
Dennis slowly scooted close to him and grinned. "I'm sure you wish _Marionette_ would give _you_ a _**kiss**_ -"  
 _Pop!_ Wally pushed Dennis' head off his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets as he began to trudge towards the house across the street. "Shut the hell up, Dennis."

"...Alright, this is where you'll release the monsters," Carla said as she guided Stine down the hall. The author eyed the various paintings that hung on the wall and rose an eyebrow. He looked back at Alex, who tailed closely behind.  
"So...you're Carla's wife."  
Alex offered a sweet smile and nodded. "And happily so," she said, and her expression turned apologetic. "-I'm guessing you're not getting a very good impression on her, are you..?"  
"Well...if we're being honest here…" Stine's voice trailed, and the author shrugged as he looked forward again. "Then again I don't really get along with anyone."  
Alex laughed. "Well, mister Stine, I assure you that Carla isn't always this...abrasive. Time is just of the essence at the moment."  
Stine nodded in understanding, and his expression adjusted to a look of befuddlement. They had stopped walking at this point, but what was before them did not seem special in any sort: a black painted door; a little thin for a typical door, and a tad taller as well. It looked as though it was either painted with pitch, or the darkest ink that a person could get their hands on. And at the center of the door what appeared to be a golden wind-up, and just a tad above the door was something that resembled that thing you see at the top of elevators that tells you what floor you are on. Actually, now that Stine was really taking a really good look at it… the whole thing seemed to resemble an old-fashioned elevator. Except there was a black door in place of a metal gate.  
Carla turned the wind-up a few times, dragged out and satisfying clicks and ticks sounding. The needle above slowly began to move, passing by the symbols that replaced the numbers at an agonizingly slow rate. At last, when the needle was in front of the symbol that looked oddly similar to the 'G' that symbolized the Goosebumps novels, Carla slowly stepped back from the door. As odd noises from behind the door shifted and shuddered, she looked back at Alex.  
"You did clear out the room before I left, right?"  
Alex nodded, and offered her a small raise of the brow and smirked. "I did it the night we moved in."  
"Always seven steps ahead of me…"

Stine glanced between Carla and Alex, and his gaze turned downward when he felt a gentle tug on his pant leg. He was met with Dennis' friendly smile.  
"Hiya,"  
How could Stine not smile at that greeting? He ruffled Dennis' hair and looked back up: only to have to look down again when he felt a gruff pat on the leg. Rocky. The author frowned a little when he noticed the dummy was missing his fedora. "What happened to your hat, Rocky?"  
"I lost it in a chase with that thing," Rocky motioned his head towards the ink pen that hung off of Carla's neck.  
Stine nodded a little, and he felt his stomach churn sickeningly when he was reminded that it was the Invisible Boy that was the ' _thing'_ Rocky was referring to in that pen. He let his mind wander elsewhere, realizing that one of three was missing.  
"Where's Wallace?"  
Rocky waved a hand down. "Eh, he's around."  
Dennis grinned and clutched onto Stine's pant leg as he swung back and forth on his feet. "He's probably upstairs in the attic with Marionette," He sang.  
Stine rose an eyebrow. "Who?"  
"She's Carla's character," Rocky explained. "-sweet girl; has a lot of heart. And I will admit she is a bit of a looker. But what else would you expect from a porcelain, you know?"  
"Wally really likes her," Dennis quipped. "-and I think she likes him. Just a feelin'. They'll fall in love, and hold hands and-"  
"That'll do, Dennis." Carla said as a loud and mechanical unlocking noise sounded, and the door quietly creaked open. She looked back at Stine and motioned her head towards the door. "This way; and mind your head at the last step," she said before making her way down. "Dennis, Rocky; stay up here, rest your legs. After that run-in you both had, and with what's to come; you'll need it."

Stine watched the two dummies wander off, and Alex offered a smile before starting down the hall herself. "I'll leave you two to it. I'm boiling water for tea, so you can help yourself when you're done."  
"Uh…" The author looked between Alex and the door. "...thanks," This...was a bit ominous, Stine couldn't help but think.  
"Don't worry, it's safe."  
Taking a deep breath as he turned to the door again, Stine clenched his hands and started to walk down the steps towards the darkened room below. He knew it was safe, despite the ominous atmosphere. The author was just starting to get a very bad feeling; as though he were in the center of the eye of the storm, the calm before things go from bad to worse…  
A bad omen.

✎╣? ﾟﾔﾑ? ﾟﾔﾐ╠✐

"...Hey, do you hear that? We're out of the drawer!"  
"Out of the drawer? Your ears are starting to go, you stinky Horror,"  
"Watch it, you rotten vampire; we're trapped in this place in case you forgot and there's nowhere to run; but seriously, Clem; take a listen!"  
Clem rolled his eyes and listened carefully over the snores and snarls of the sleeping monsters. After being up for all hours of the night, most of them were wiped out from doing all they could running about their confined space of darkness trying to escape somehow. In between the pauses of the exhausted commotion, however...he _did_ hear a new voice crisp and clear, as well as Stine's. And every once in awhile, the darkness would gently shift and sway. Not enough to notice if you weren't paying attention, but enough to know that their cage was certainly being held by _someone_. And that someone had to be Stine, because he could hear his voice the most. But there was another, and another, and another! There had to be five others their creator at least; it was difficult to tell.  
"What do you think we're doing out?"  
"We're not out, Ilch." Clem dryly retorted.  
"But we might be, one day." Ilch said.  
"Come on, get real. Even Slappy lost hope of escaping on the third month."  
"Jeez...poor guy,"  
"Poor guy?" Clem snapped. He shot up to his feet. " _Poor guy_?! He's the whole reason we're stuck in here! It was his idea to start rebelling against Stine because he was _jealous_ of that ghost bitch!" He started wildly pacing around, throwing his hands in the air. "I said it was a bad idea, I tried to warn everyone; but nobody listens to ol' Clem, do they?! Nooo, they had to listen to Slappy because he's 'the boss'," the vampire made air quotations.  
"Clem, come on, cut Slappy some slack; he's gotten us pretty far the last time, at least."  
"You say that about every 'master plan' he has, Ilch."  
"But it's true,"  
Clem rolled his eyes again. He huffed quietly and crossed his arms as he sat back down. "Whatever."  
"It doesn't matter anymore anyway, right?" A new voice stated from directly behind Clem. The vampire turned, and the horror leant to the side to get a better look. Slappy approached the two slowly, hands shoved in his pockets, and plopped down with his legs sprawled. "Stine and those kids made it easier to catch us all, even if we did escape again," he stared at his feet. "All cramped together in one stinking book..."  
Ilch and Clem exchanged glances, and the horror gave the vampire a shove. "What?" He snapped.  
Ilch glared at Clem. He looked down at Slappy gave his wooden head a gentle pat. "You're not telling us you're actually quitting, are you?" He questioned. "It's not like you to give up and drop everything on the dime like that,"  
"I know; Stine wrote me like that; and I hate it." Slappy sneered. "It's exhausting being resilient. Especially when you always fail in the end."  
"Come on, Slappy…"  
"Well, I mean...he never really won in his books…" Clem chirped in. Ilch slugged him in the arm, hard. "OW! _Dammit_ , Ilch!"  
"Why don't you just shut up for a while, huh?!"  
"Close your mouth; your breath reeks!"  
"Bite me!"  
"That can be arranged," Clem hissed as he stooped low, ready to pounce.  
Ilch snarled and bared his fangs. "Hit me with your best shot, small-fry,"  
"Hey, hey!" Slappy stood between the two stooped monsters and pushed them both away from one another, foot pressed against Clem's forehead and palm against Ilch's face. "Knock it off, you idiots! It's too _crowded_ in here to start any fights!" He gave them both a rough shove and sent them back onto their backs.  
The two monsters exchanged glares and hissed at one another before plopping down with angry huffs.  
Slappy heaved a sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets with a small shake of his head. He turned on his heels and started to stride away. "At this rate if we're stuck in here for much longer, we'll kill each other."  
"We can't die, remember?" Clem dryly stated, rubbing his forehead.  
"Unfortunately,"

" _...so once I finish having everything set up, you'll put the book in the center here with the book unlocked."_

The monsters' heads all shot up at once with widened eyes, but Slappy seemed to be the most stricken. One by one, their gazes locked tight on the dark abyss above them; even the Blob halted its gurgling noises and a good chunk of the slime turned upward, listening well on the conversation above them.

" _-Once the book is opened, we'll-"  
_ " _Wait, wait, wait; hold on! Isn't it more dangerous to have them out and about? Wouldn't that just paint a target on their backs?!"  
_ " _I already told you; they are much more vulnerable in there together and easy to get to all at once! It'd be a whole different situation if they still had their books, but Slappy destroyed those: do you want them to end up like your Invisible Boy?"_

Murmurs raised, and the monsters exchanged confused looks.

"...I thought the Invisible boy was here," the Haunted Mask whispered.  
"Apparently not," Murder said with a frown.  
The dummy slowly pushed his way through the front of the crowed. As the conversation above went on and seemed to grow more dire, the murmurs amongst the characters grew far more alarmed, and the Haunted Car even started to wildly flash its headlights and rev up the engine with concern; and the fact the word 'murderer' continuously popping up over and over involving the Invisible Boy did not exactly help the situation. The darkness suddenly rocked and shook, and the large crowd was sent on their backs from the shock: somebody, _Stine_ , had set them down on the floor. The only one who managed to remain standing was Slappy, his gaze still glued to where the voices were coming from. His eyes narrowed eagerly, he knew what was coming next, he was ready. Those ungrateful idiots wanted him gone?  
 _Oh, no problem, there,_ Slappy thought. _No problem at all… Who needs you all, anyway? Not me._ He'd be long gone soon enough; quick as a flash. It wouldn't be long now.  
Click; a tense silence washed over the crowd, followed by an increasingly bright light radiating from above, a powerful pull starting to yank and drag, some startled cries; and then everything went white.

╣? ﾟﾔﾓ? ﾟﾔﾓ?￢ﾕﾠ

Of all of Slappy's famous 'disappearing acts', that had to be the best. As soon as he had taken a solid form, the lights flickered, and the dummy had gone. That flashing and sudden look of absolute shock and horror plastered on Stine's face was something he was especially proud of. Whoever that other woman was, however, didn't even so much as blink. Slappy couldn't help but notice that, but as he bolted down the empty sidewalk to who-the-hell-knew-where; but what did it matter? She was probably too slow-minded to even process what was even happening at the moment. The thought of that made Slappy laugh, and he kept on zipping down blocks and sliding around corners. He discovered rather quickly however that he was heading towards where the abandoned amusement park used to be. It was in shambles, just as he left it. There was some satisfaction in that.  
However, oddly enough, Slappy had found himself huffing and puffing for non-existing breath and scrambling through the disheveled fun house entrance. Odd; he never felt that sensation before. There was always the factor that the dummy could sleep whenever he wished if he were bored and didn't have much else to do...but never before had he actually felt the draining sensation of exhaustion. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline getting to him. He pulled himself up step by step (they were much too steep to merely walk up), and with a huff plopped down in the familiar encirclement of mirrors. They were cracked, and if you looked carefully enough, you could find dry stains of slime the Blob had left behind.  
It was only then did Slappy realize that he truly didn't have a destination in mind to run to.  
Although wandering about the world was something he had done in his books...it was something he hadn't really done before. Nor was it his thing; the whole 'nomadic deal' was something that Wally had done. Slappy was just dragged along for the ride. Even then, it was only because it was Wally. Where else was he to go? Being the pathetic wimp he was, he would have gotten caught in a heartbeat. It was something of a miracle that when he and Wally got separated that he didn't get discovered by some human and was burned alive. Even then, it was mere fiction in the end: a past that never even truly existed.

 _ **Why are you alone?**_

Slappy jumped his feet and wildly looked about. Nobody; not a soul (or ghoul) in sight.

The voice persisted. _**Why are you alone?**_

This was starting to get suspicious, Slappy was no dummy. Instead of answering, he asked a question in return.  
"Why are _you_ hiding?"

 _ **That's a good question.**_ The voice giggled, echoing everywhere throughout the funhouse. _**But we're not talking about me, silly-willy; we're talking about you.**_

Now Slappy was getting annoyed. His brows narrowed, and he slowly began to walk back to the steps.

 _ **Where are you going?**_

"Away from _you_!" Slappy snapped.  
 _CRACK_  
The dummy whirled around, his eyes wide. The mirror behind him had split in two, and an unsettling silence slowly sunk in. His gaze slowly casted around himself, and his brows clacked back into a narrowing position. With slow steps, Slappy approached the mirror. Something felt off; very off. Obviously, it's a no-brainer that he was the scariest thing around this town; he could give every single person in this dull town nightmares if he wanted to. But however, nothing could shake the uneasiness that was starting to creep up on him.  
Someone, no, some _thing_ was watching him. Something that made chills run up his spine, which says a lot. And they were doing it very closely.  
Considering the very fact that Slappy was one of the ones that _made_ things go bump in the night―he had a very good idea of what was coming next, and he didn't want to stick around for that. Now it really _was_ time to split. The dummy backtracked, turned around and―

 _ **WACK!**_

" _Oof_ -!"  
Too little too late. Typical. Something had given him a hard smack to the face and sent him back against the cracked mirror. The impact made it shatter, and Slappy slumped onto the floor. He groaned and stiffly turned his head forward (his head had also made a wild turn in his little soaring moment) to see the culprit standing right in front of him. His eyes widened again, but only for a moment before twisting and contorting into disgust.

" _Wally…_ " Slappy snarled.  
Wally cocked his head to the side and casted Slappy a wry grin. "Hey there, little brother," he greeted snidely. He pressed the sole of his sneaker to Slappy's chest and leant all of his weight and strength on him as he leant down close to his face. "―how are ya?"  
Slappy gave Wally a harsh shove, but he was only pinned down back against the wooden floor. _Hell and damnation,_ he thought ruefully. "What do you want?! And what have you been eating, you weigh a _ton_!"  
"You son of a bitch," Wally hissed. He grabbed Slappy by the collar and held him up against the wall while giving him a good shake. "―you _know_ why I'm here, you bastard! Give it to me! I _want_ it _back_!"  
Slappy cracked a smirk. "You'll have to be specific…"  
Wally growled, annoyed. He leant into Slappy's face. "Give me back my _powers_ ," he hissed. "I am the eldest, and you are nothing but a pathetic and whiny brat that throws a tantrum every time something doesn't go your way; you don't _deserve_ that old man's power. You don't even know how to _use_ it!"  
Slappy's grin only widened at Wally's words. " _I_ didn't get run over by a truck because I was too busy running away from a couple of brats," he taunted. "―besides, you can do magic just fine on your own without it." He eyed the journal attached to Wally's belt by a chain. "You always were a good little book-worm. It looks to me like you have your spells and charms all nice and tucked away in that stupid little journal." Slappy patted his brother's hand (which was wildly trembling with something beyond fury) and offered a patronizing expression. "So why don't you keep the role and put me down, and I'll keep the old man's powers. It's a win-win."  
Wally glared ruefully at Slappy, and his eyes narrowed as he dropped his hand down. He slowly lowered the other to the floor.  
"There, see? That wasn't too hard, was it―"  
Slappy's hand caught Wally's fist just in time. And the other was quick to follow. They shot daggers-for-eyes at each other, both hands shaking from trying to shove the other away. Their eyes glimmered a dangerous green, the lights flared to life from the combination of their anger-triggered magic (and yes, growing brighter all the while!), and both tempers seemed to be boiling over the pot.  
Slappy's voice came to a low rumble. "Okay...so that's how it's gonna be…"

Lights off.  
Slappy vanishes, the sudden weight shift sends Wally's fist crashing through the platformed wall. He growls angrily and sharply looks back.

Lights on.  
Wally makes a mad dash towards Slappy and throws a punch, but the brunette dummy folds back, practically like paper, and with a slight shift and sway of his body drops down. Down Wally goes crashing against the floor when Slappy's foot collides with his ankle.

Lights off.  
But as Wally crashes down, he drags Slappy with him. As luck would have it, the top floor had to be one with the bad flooring, and that crash of weight was just enough to send the two dummies through the floor.

Lights on.  
The light shines through; Wally gives Slappy a hard shove and sends him speeding downward and crashing against the bottom floor. A low groan passes his lips, and he slowly rolls onto his side before sharply looking up.

Lights off.  
Wally drops down right over Slappy, and the two start rolling on the floor kicking, screaming and shouting at one another.  
"You are a greedy little twit!" Wally snapped. "I should've done away with you when I had the chance at that goddamned house!"  
"I'm the greedy twit?!" Slappy shrilled. " _I'm_ the greedy twit?!" He repeated. "You know, we could've had it made there! We could have been just fine! But you had to attack those stupid twins! We could have made a break for it! We could've gotten out of each other's ways and everything would have been just _fine_!"  
"They were a couple of brats! They needed to be taught a lesson! Just like _you_ ," Wally's voice grew dangerous, and he pinned Slappy to the floor. He wound up his arm and brought it down at an incredible speed. His fist collided with Slappy's face, and the dummy grunted painfully. Wally hoisted Slappy up by the collar and wound back his arm again…

And then everything went dark.

╣? ﾟﾔﾓ? ﾟﾔﾓ?￢ﾕﾠ

"Ohh...ow... _ow_ —damn Wally...he actually managed to knock my lights out. Must've been pretty angry... _he he_ , oh well; not my fault…" Slappy had raised his hand to rub the throbbing section of his forehead...only to find that he couldn't. He was only able to move his hand up so far as half a foot, then a metal and restraining creak would rattle in the darkness. Slappy tried the other hand–no luck. He moved his legs about–ah, at least his legs were free. But even so, the restraints weren't nearly as long enough for him to stand. Perfect. Absolutely wonderful. What did Wally drag him into _now_?  
"Apologies for the restraints. But, as you can probably imagine after having that little chase...we don't exactly trust you quite yet to leave you alone unrestrained." A voice spoke, a woman? Slappy didn't even recognize the voice—wait...yes...yes, he did recognize the voice. The woman that was speaking with papa— _Stine_ , it looked as though he was having the pleasure of meeting her.  
The light switched on, and, after his eyes adjusted to the newly exposed light, Slappy slowly looked up to see a towering brunette standing before him. Her expression was cold, and her eyes glazed icily as she stared down at the dummy, and he stared back up at her. A moment of silence passed, and Slappy was starting to get quite bored.  
"Uhh...so is this one of those things where I wait for you to talk, or you're waiting for me to say something, or..?"  
Carla, who was the woman standing before the dummy, huffed quietly and slowly approached the chair Slappy was restrained against. She scooped up a file from the table in front of him before taking a seat down in a chair across from him.  
"...Seventeen escapes; four lone attempts to take over the current residence Robert Lawrence Stine, seven attempts to rid of your rivals upon escaping—including the dummies Dennis, Rocky, and Mary-Ellen the doll—and six attempts to...ah...conquer the world with by formulating an army with your fellow characters from the Goosebumps series…" Carla read. She glanced up at Slappy, and the two rose brows at each other. "I assume this is correct..?"  
"Not bad…" Slappy mused. "So what are you? Another loon chasing after Stine and us? Seeking vengeance because he 'ruined your life'?"  
"No. Actually, I suppose you can consider me as an agent. And a dealmaker."  
Slappy knew how deals worked. He dealt them all the time, but he never took any; he was smarter than to do that. However...the very idea that this woman was ballsy enough to actually warm the ice on the topic intrigued Slappy… And she seemed to be smarter than he anticipating, which meant this deal might either be worthwhile, or a pain in his polished wooden ass.  
"...So what's your name, _friend_?"  
"Carla Blake. I already know who you are very well, Slappy. Eight sequels. Impressive,"  
"I like to please the crowd. By the way, you mind taking off these restraints now? They're starting to eat at my wrists worse than a termite invasion,"

Oddly enough, Carla found the comment a bit more amusing than she should have let on, and she slowly shook her head with a smile. "Alright," she took her ink pen and with a brief flick of the wrist, the restraints liquified and blackened as they trailed and swirled into the nib.  
Slappy rubbed his wrists slowly and rose a brow at the pen. "An agent you said, right?"  
"Yes,"  
"And I'm guessing it was you who sent my dearest brother after me,"  
"Truth be told, he would have went even if I told him not to. His anger management is something to be desired."  
"Well, I would agree with you but then it wouldn't be anymore fun to pick on him," Slappy smirked. "—but, if you did send him...guess that would make Wally your hunting mutt then, huh?"  
"I believe the correct term is 'community service',"  
"Gross," Slappy grimaced as he leant back in the chair and crossed his legs. "—anyway...about you being a 'dealmaker'...you wouldn't mention something like that unless you have something in mind. So what do you want?"  
"Your corporation."  
Slappy rolled his eyes and slowly nodded. He crossed his arms. "Ohh...okay, I see where this is going, now…"  
"Do you?"  
"It's not hard to figure out."  
Carla smiled and leant back in her own seat. She set the file back down on the table and motioned to the dummy. He couldn't pinpoint why, but...she seemed absolutely amused. "Well, then...proceed with your hypothesis," she mused.  
"Oohh, she likes using _big words_ , I'm so impressed," Slappy dryly stated. "—and, she wants to put a leash on me too. Stine, being the coward he is, probably gave us away to your little 'agency'; guess that's a whole weight off of him, right? We get to walk around as _free_ as we like, so long as you keep the leash on and have us do your chores."  
Carla frowned a bit, almost...pitily..? "You truly think that poorly of your maker..?" She asked.  
"Lady, if you were in my shoes, it wouldn't be that hard."  
The InkMaster sighed, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples. "Just as cynical as your brother, I see…" She looked up at Slappy. "Allow me to correct your views. You, Slappy, as well as the other characters from the Goosebumps series, are under a witness protection program of sorts."  
Slappy sat up. Okay...not exactly what he had in mind…  
"As I have explained to Mr. Stine and the others, the Invisible Boy was recently murdered. Well, he isn't necessarily dead...but he certainly isn't alive." Carla stood and began to pace. "I am here to make sure the character responsible doesn't get to the rest of you—but hiding won't work forever. And, that is why you are here. This all boils down to what you decide right now," she looked at Slappy. "You are their influence. And, although your 'friends' may not be pleased with you at the moment...they see you as a leader."  
Slappy frowned, and his eyes narrowed. He was made literally as a twist, so they don't usually come as a surprise to him. But in this case, however, although the dummy made no notion of showing it, the very fact alone that the Invisible Boy really was 'dead' took him back. And killed by a character, no less. There was something about Carla's words, however...something that made him suspicious.  
Very slowly, Slappy leant forward, and his brows clacked as they too narrowed. "What are you getting at..?"  
Carla stopped pacing. She approached the dummy and leant down—their eyes met, hazel stabbed straight through deep cocoa. Slappy glanced away occasionally. Not only was her gaze extremely uncomfortable and penetrating, it felt as though she were not looking at him but into his split and poorly moraled soul.  
The sound of paper scraping against metal broke the silence, and Slappy slowly looked over to find a contract ready to be signed, and a pen ready to be used. There was an empty line on the bottom, but there was also another line above. But this one wasn't empty—it held a signature in a scrawled and rushed cursive.  
 _R.L. Stine_  
"This contract is something similar to your awakening spell. Once signed with all parties agreed on the terms, we will become binded to this contract. Not even I can break it. That power belongs only to the higher-ups." Carla's tone darkened. "Slappy...I want you to lead those monsters, to guide them, to help them fend for themselves. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, but...this is a complex and difficult situation. I'm not even sure if I will live to see the end of this.  
"But you and the others must. Nothing is more important to me than the lives of a creator's creations. No matter what—protagonist, secondary, minor...or antagonist," she glanced at Slappy. "Once this is all over, so long as you _behave_ from the moment you sign that contract and on...you will _remain_ free. No locks, no keys, your book burned and ashes thrown away." Upon the dummy's wide eyes and slacked jaw, she humphed quietly with a faint smile and stood up straight. She motioned to the contract. "Do we have a deal..?"  
Slappy slowly looked at the contract. He walked to the edge of the chair and took the pen, frowning and contemplating. "So we'll stay free—" Slappy sharply looked up at Carla and pointed down at the contract. "—as soon as I sign this, our freedom is sealed. That's the deal?"  
"So long as you behave."  
His gaze locked back on the contract. He read it over once, twice, three times. Nothing, absolutely nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "...And in exchange we help you take out the one who killed one of our own, saving our skins all the while, huh..?" Something was nagging at him. Something in the back of his mind was screaming and shouting at him. 'Don't do it! On't sign, whatever you do! Things will end up only worse if you do! If you sign that paper, the most hellish omens will come your way.'  
Let's see...confined inside a book or some leg space..? A vacuum sealed package, or reality..? Imprisonment, or freedom..? Hmm..such complex choices.

"Do I sign with my whole name or with initials?"

 **—**

 **HERE IT IS! Apologies for the long wait—I hit a minor writing-block and had to rewrite a bit of the chapter because I wrote myself into a corner by accident. Oops But nevertheless, it is here! And also, take heed of this because this is a WARNING: this fanfiction will get extremely dark from this point on, and the future chapters are designed to not only scare and make us laugh like the original Goosebumps books, but also there will be some strong moments in here and some mature content involving things such as suicidal natures, gory and horrific imagery, numerous death scenes (no character is at the mercy of being spared—ANYONE could go at ANY GIVEN TIME, and this includes our protagonists), mildly (not NSFW level) sexual moments and a bit more. There is a theme and REASON why I am writing it this way, but that will be given very late in the story, quite possibly even at the end. The chapters will also get longer, and it will take some time for me to write them as well as I want to. In other words, from Chapter 4 and on, this fanfic is to be considered rated M. It's like a Goosebumps book with its frights, humor and wits, but for older teens and adults. If you are 13 or under—unless you think you can handle what is coming next—I HIGHLY RECOMMEND for your own well-being that you STOP READING.  
You have been warned, and enjoy the future frights and feels~!  
-ArtMun**


End file.
